


F&tGM02—The Princess and the Hand Glass

by VStarTraveler



Series: VST's Fafhrd & the Gray Mouser Series [2]
Category: Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser - Fritz Leiber
Genre: & wizards (which are always a problem!), Even more problems with assassins, F/M, More problems with a Princess, Or not., Problems with a Dandy, Then there's a magic item that helps cause it all!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-01-31 06:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 23,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12676659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VStarTraveler/pseuds/VStarTraveler
Summary: The Gray Mouser interrupts an attempted abduction of a pampered but dispirited princess but then must flee with her to avoid becoming yet another victim of the attackers. Before he can get her home safely, her curiosity about an ancient item complicates matters so he must protect her from not only the kidnappers and other dark elements of Lankhmar but also from himself!





	1. A Long Time Ago

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:
> 
> This story is a work of fiction, written totally for fun and not for profit. This interpretation of Fafhrd, the Gray Mouser, Lankhmar, and the rest of the world of Nehwon is entirely my own. They remain the property of their respective owners. I'm just borrowing them to play for a little while, hoping that my words would do the late Mr. Leiber proud.
> 
> Special Thanks:
> 
> This story was inspired in part by the July 2016 writing challenge on the Writers Anonymous forum. There was much more story to tell than the rules allowed for the contest so it was not entered, but I really appreciate the idea that became central to the story. I won't mention exactly what that was to avoid a major spoiler!
> 
> Thanks, Rhea Silverkeys and Writers Anonymous, for the inspiration!

Long ago in the lands far to the east of what the Lankhmarese call the Eastern Lands, there lived a powerful and ambitious king. Wishing to expand and strengthen his kingdom, he married the very beautiful and intelligent queen from a neighboring country, thereby uniting the two nations into one.

All was well for almost twenty years, but as the years passed, the king saw the queen slowly starting to age. He witnessed this without admitting to the changes taking place in his own body so he increasingly ignored his wife and eventually took a beautiful young mistress. To declare his ardor for the young woman, he ordered his wise men to oversee the creation of a fabulous item of great beauty that would equal that of the young lady. He left the particulars to them. After much discussion by the advisors, they settled on the gift and commissioned the object's creation.

When the queen learned of the item through one of the advisors more loyal to her than to the king, she ordered her network of spies to intercept it before it could be delivered to her royal husband. On looking at the object for the first time, she suddenly had a moment when she saw very clearly what was happening. She then had her agents locate and discreetly eliminate the king's young mistress. However, the king had spies, too, and on learning of her deed, he attempted to remove her from the throne.

A period of civil war ensued. The kingdom was eventually divided into two parts along basically the original lines of its two components, with each monarch holding their original part. However, the ruler of a neighboring kingdom even more powerful than either of the two waited until the time was right and then invaded. Both kingdoms fell with the king and his alienated queen both being killed.

The by-then infamous item of great beauty was secretly taken in the spoils from the queen's baggage train following the final battle and it disappeared from history.

~F&tGM~

_Several hundred years later in the borderlands east of the land of Mnar..._

The raid on the caravan came off much as the bandit chief had planned but Karsbal could only watch from a distance. He wasn't allowed to join in the attack or the looting that followed. His job was to hold the raiders' ponies.

For nine years, he had held their mounts during every attack, the successful and the not-so. For nine years, he watched from a distance, learning over time to anticipate basically every move made by his band and those of the caravan staff, as well as recognizing the errors made on both sides. Still, he was not a strong man so he was relegated to keeping the ponies and for nine years, his share of the treasure was so small that he knew he would never be able to buy a really good sword, a second pony, or even afford a dowry for a wife, much less a somewhat pretty one.

He wished to stomp in anger but knew that might scare the ponies so he gritted his teeth and cursed under his breath instead. He desperately wanted to go out to help ransack the goods on the pack animals that the forward part of the caravan had left behind, but Cheljen Hon, the bandit leader, would slay him without mercy if he left his post. Therefore, Karsbal had no outlook on life, no future; he had only the prospect of continuing to hold the ponies.

Walking back and forth as far as the lead on the string of ponies would allow, he continued to watch as the cleanup operations were underway. It was then that his sharp ears suddenly heard something that was out of the ordinary, a rustling sound. Turning, he pulled his short and ancient broadsword and held it out in front of him as a wide-eyed man came crawling out of the thick prairie grass.

Stumbling to his feet, the man was as surprised as Karsbal, his eyes widening further and his hands thrown up to just above shoulder level. He rattled off something in an impossibly fast and completely incomprehensible language, leading Karsbal to stab the short sword in his direction to shut the man up and take control of the situation.

"Who are you? Where are you from?"

The man shook his hands up and down a couple of times, having no clue what Karsbal had asked, but then he held both hands out in a gesture that seemed to mean "stop." The man nodded down toward his chest and pinched his forefinger and thumb together a couple of times.

Karsbal nodded slightly in return, and the man slowly reached his left hand inside his tunic. When the bandit frowned and shook the sword again, the man nodded quickly and drew out a small packet wrapped and tied in a black cloth. Pointing in the distance away from the caravan and the raiders who seemed to be wrapping up their work, the man unleashed another torrent and then held out the packet to Karsbal.

Not knowing what it held but knowing that it seemed valuable to his prisoner, he nodded and the man handed the packet into his hand. His eyes widening with a requesting nod, the man gave one last statement, of which Karsbal would only remember what sounded like "Gris-lins" and "Langh-mah."

With Karsbal's brief nod in reply, the man turned and ran into the wilderness, never to be seen by the petty bandit again.

Karsbal placed the packet inside his own tunic just before the first of the bandits returned. He struggled for the next two days to find enough privacy to open it without being caught by Cheljen Hon or any of the other raiders.

When that private opportunity finally arrived after they returned to their main camp, Karsbal untied the cloth and then carefully opened it to reveal a small bag with seven gemstones of various sizes and colors and a gold necklace with a large, green emerald setting. Treasure! His hand was almost shaking at the thought. _I'm rich for the first time in my life!_

Flush with excitement, he looked at the last item, an old, distressed-leather sheath. It was definitely out of place next to the other items, but after the initial good fortune, he hoped it would be some type of a powerful, though rather small, weapon. Taking a chance, he squeezed the edges of the sheath slightly to open it. When he did, he peeked inside to see a shiny silver and gold object. His eyes grew large at the surprise; he was certain this was the most precious metal he'd ever held. Finally, he had a real treasure!

His hand was shaking as he very carefully pulled out the object, which was about 9 to 10 inches long. Looking something akin to a small paddle, there was a silver handle with rolling undulations topped with gold crests, which reminded the bandit of the rolling hills far to the north or the small waves he had once witnessed when his band had visited the shore of the Sea of Monsters. There were also five fabulous, matching red rubies embedded near the bottom forming what appeared to be a flower. The handle made up just less than half of its length but it was the other end that was really interesting. It was silver with gold inlay like the handle, but when he turned it over, he saw the material seemingly flowed around to the front as if those waves crashing on that distant beach. In the center was an oval-shaped silvered reflecting glass of incredible workmanship. Looking into the glass allowed Karsbal, the petty bandit, to see himself clearly for the first time in his life.

It was at that exact time that Karsbal experienced a moment of great clarity; he knew just what he was to do. Suddenly, Karsbal had a future.

~F&tGM~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be adding a quick follow-up chapter so readers will see that this really is a story about our heroes. Please leave even a brief review to let me know what you think of the story so far. Your time reading my story and your reviews are greatly appreciated and encourage me to continue this series. Thanks!
> 
> P.S. In glancing through the chapter, I've discovered that all of my italic text has been converted to normal text. I'll figure out how to reinsert it and get that corrected soon. Sorry for any confusion that may have caused.


	2. An Evening at the Silver Eel

_Approximately fifty years later in present-day Lankhmar, the City of Sevenscore Thousand Smokes..._

It was a hot summer night so there was no welcoming flame in either fireplace but candlelight flickered and beer flowed in the crowded confines of the Silver Eel Tavern. Raised voices seemingly sought to be heard above other similarly raised voices and frequent bursts of raucous laughter that filled the establishment. It was shortly before midnight and the usual crowd was in place.

With Fafhrd, his giant barbarian friend, having taken a temporary night job down at the dock, and Geena, the Mouser's recent squeeze, not exactly speaking with him at the moment, the Gray Mouser had decided to make his first trip back to the Silver Eel in nearly a month in search of a good drink and perhaps a willing woman. Having a tankard of ale in his hand, he was one for two so far so his ever-watchful eyes continued to surreptitiously observe person after person as the evening advanced.

While the faces usually varied somewhat from night to night, the Mouser, in a melancholy mood, reflected that the basic types of clientele were generally always about the same. Within easy eyesight were drunks and dames, rakes and ruffians, men-at-arms and merchants, and a wide assortment of those like himself who preferred to keep their business to themselves.

Raising his mug to his lips once more, he drained the last of the ale, so he rose to his full height of just a few inches over five feet and made his way forward to the bar where a coin from his ever-dwindling supply bought him a refill.

Turning back toward the corner seat he had just vacated, he saw that two large, dark-haired men of what appeared to be Mingol descent had already made themselves at home. Both were only a few inches shorter than Fafhrd and both were well on the way to self-perceived invincibility obtained through the bottom of their glasses, so he decided not to contest their appropriation of his spot. He had just started out across the floor and through the crowd when, through a gap, he saw her.

His late and much-lamented love, Ivrian, had been gone for a number of years, but there, not thirty feet away from him, she stood, appearing much as she had that fateful night. He pushed forward just as the seam in the crowd closed, causing him to lose sight of her. Twisting his thin and agile frame, he started to almost dance his way through the horde when a hand grasped his shoulder and pulled him around.

"Hey! You sloshed your bloody drink all over my new pants and boots!" said a richly dressed dandy in his mid-twenties, approximately the same age as the Mouser. "What are you going to do about this?"

Seeing a fleeting glimpse of Ivrian once more through the crowd as she went out a door into the back room, the Gray Mouser said, "Uh, sorry!" Shoving his own mug into the rake's stomach, he added, "Here, take this."

The man had to grab the mug to keep from having ale spilled on the rest of his clothes and the Mouser took the opportunity to twist slightly to free himself from the man's grip. He was quickly on his way once more.

Almost running through the door to the other room, the Gray Mouser stopped to look around but the young woman was nowhere in sight. The patrons in the room were also of no help, so after trying each of the exits from the room without success and no other leads, he was crestfallen as he made his way toward the exit.

His dejection was quite strong as were the waiting hands that suddenly grasped him by both arms.

"No one treats Corsber of House Grislinski that way, little man. You will pay for the damage...either with coins in my hand or with your body," hissed the dandy he'd faced just minutes earlier.

As the man stepped toward him, the Mouser took a quick look at both of the men holding him, and then cast a quick glance over his shoulder. With three of them, it might be a bit tough, but he felt he could do it. He used the support he was getting from the guys holding his arms to lift his lower body upward and planted his right foot on Corsber's upper left leg.

"What are you doing?" roared the dandy, bending slightly forward to swat the intruding foot away.

It was then that the Gray Mouser brought his left foot up and around in a roundhouse kick that connected with the side of the man's face. He extended his right leg at almost the same instant, pushing the rake back as the man crashed sideways.

With surprise on his side, Mouser started to twist his body to go after the man on his right, but that was when the fourth man, who was just coming back from getting a refill, smashed the side of his mug down on the back of the Mouser's head.

~F&tGM~

The Gray Mouser wasn't sure how long had passed when he awoke to find himself slumped against the side of the building in the alley behind the Silver Eel.

The crowing cock caused his throbbing head to scream at him all the louder. Raising his hand was agony but he brought it up slowly and felt the matted blood in the hair on the back of his head. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt swollen from thirst, though he couldn't tell if it actually was or not. In addition, his hair and clothes were wet and he smelled something like a brewery, as if someone had poured old ale all over him. When he tried to rise, he collapsed back against the building, his eyes slipping closed once more.

It was almost midmorning when he awoke again. This time, he forced himself to stand, using the side of the building for support. That's when he realized his boots were missing. Patting himself elsewhere, he found that his money pouch and his necklace were also gone, along with Scalpel, his rapier. Fortunately, they'd missed his dagger, Cat's Claw, hidden in its sheath in the center of his back. The only things he had now that he hadn't had earlier were the knot on his head, a killer headache, and a big score to settle.

He made his way home eventually and then wrapped a damp towel around his head before crashing into bed.

Fafhrd awoke him late that afternoon before he left for his night job. "Mouser, are you okay? I just saw blood on your towel! Here, let me take a look."

Following Mouser's mumbled reply, the barbarian used the skill he'd learned from his mother in his childhood to clean and bandage his friend's scalp. After seeing to his needs and making sure he was comfortable, Fafhrd left for work, promising to check on Mouser the next morning.

When he returned, the little man was still sleeping peacefully. He nudged him slightly to sense his reaction.

"I'd stick you for that but the bastards stole Scalpel, too," Mouser mumbled. "Help me up? I've got a lot to do. Oh, and can I borrow some money for some new boots?"

~F&tGM~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mouser was originally going to steal some new boots, since buying them seemed quite out of character, but after thinking about it, I assumed he felt so bad that he was quite off on his game and didn't trust himself to do it without getting caught. 
> 
> Believe me, that time will come, though!
> 
> New chapters will be posted approximately weekly.


	3. The Festival of Midsummer Eve

Having lost the girl he believed to be Ivrian and feeling rather embarrassed about letting the Grislinski stooges get the drop on him, the Gray Mouser decided to make the rakish young lordling pay for his error. It took almost three weeks to fully recover and prepare for his revenge.

Doing some very discreet checking, he learned that House Grislinski had been established in Lankhmar about 35 years earlier when a thickly accented merchant whose name was recorded in the official city register as Corsbal had arrived in Lankhmar from lands somewhere far to the east. Using his knowledge of caravans and having a seemingly uncanny ability to outguess the bandits that tend to prey on them, Corsbal had built up a remarkably successful long-distance trading firm. On settling in Lankhmar, Corsbal (who one of the Mouser's sources said always pronounced his name "Kharrs-bahll") soon purchased a walled estate in the Temple district of Lankhmar, where wanna-be nobles generally lived.

Eventually, the short, thick man had married well and gone on to have a large family and an apparently happy life. A number of his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren now lived in the compound, though the old man had passed on in his sleep a couple of years earlier, so his oldest son was now in charge of the company and the family. Finally, Mouser discovered that his nemesis Corsber was Corsbal's worthless eldest grandson.

The Gray Mouser cased the Grislinski home for several days, learning everything possible about it, before finally going in on the night of the Festival of Midsummer Eve. That was a night when many would worship at the local temples followed by parties at the temples, the bars, or the homes of various bigwigs around the city. Mouser had hoped that there would be such a party at the Grislinski estate allowing him to walk right in, but it wasn't to be, so he scaled a wall and climbed in an upper story window of the main house.

Sneaking from room to room and picking up a few valuable objects as he went along, he hid several times for varying periods of time as people passed. Therefore, it took the Gray Mouser over an hour to reach Corsber's room.

~F&tGM~

_At about that same time…_

Altennia, the third of Overlord Karstak Ovartamortes' daughters, had been searching in vain for her place in life. Unfortunately, her search was happening at the same time as her father was desperately trying to marry her off to form the most advantageous alliance possible to strengthen his position in the ever-changing world of Nehwon.

Never having experienced love, the pretty young princess was getting perilously close to her twenty-first birthday, at which time her father thought her value in the diplomatic world would drop precipitously. Being rather insulted at being assigned such a value, no matter what it was, she really did not wish to be shipped like a sack of grain from the nearby fields north across the Inner Sea to one of the Eight Cities or east to Ilthmar, or even worse still, south to the mysterious city of Quarmall, to be united at whichever destination with some man completely unknown to her. Her fear was that he would probably be much older and very smelly, too, and that she would never get to experience love or true happiness.

Altennia was riding in a gently swaying covered palanquin with Mistress Sherena, her nearly middle-aged chaperone, while returning from one of the very minor temples at the far east end of the Street of the Gods, where once again she hadn't found the answers or the solace that she was seeking.

With a small candle lantern hung from the canopy frame above them swung gently, providing a small amount of illumination in the vehicle that allowed the two women to see one another and Sherena to note the look of sadness on the young princess's face. As disappointed as she was, they were on their way back to the Rainbow Palace on the north side of the city of Lankhmar, where it overlooked the Inner Sea. To Altennia, the palace had recently become more like a prison than home.

The swaying suddenly came to a stop as the front guards and the porters carrying the palanquin were halted by a crowd of late-night worshipers spilling into the street at one of the temples midway along the dimly lit Street of the Gods just before their intended turn to the north. With this particular temple making a play to move up in the every changing hierarchy of the religions in Lankhmar, many of the people were patiently holding small candles listening to the priests as they waited for the celebratory drink that had been promised to be distributed once the orations were completed.

Captain Delmar of the escort agreed with the sergeant of the forward guard that it would be too much trouble to get through the crowd, so the Captain knocked on the support pole.

Mistress Sherena pulled open the curtain. "Yes, Captain? Why are we stopped?"

"Street's blocked due to the celebration, Mistress. It's getting close to midnight so it's pretty wild out here. We're going to have to backtrack east to the last main street, cut north to Temple Street, track west—"

"Captain! Details bore us! Just get us home," replied the chaperone, puffing out the last few words one at a time.

The captain couldn't help but notice the kind, almost apologetic smile from the princess, so he agreed, "Yes, Mistress. We'll be there—"

Sherena let the curtain drop in his face.

"—soon."

The captain turned to his men and said, "About face! March!"

~F&tGM~

The Gray Mouser was quite happy to see Scalpel hanging in its scabbard on a bedpost in Corsber's room. He quickly strapped it back on, and then took a good look around the room. Everything of any significant value that wasn't very large went into his bag. He cursed under his breath about not having just a bit more time. I'd love to be able to clip some threads to weaken a few select seams in some of that young bastard's fine clothes he was so worried about. Perhaps another time...

He grinned at the thought and quietly and efficiently continued his search.

He was going through a drawer in the armoire when he noticed something a bit odd: the depth seemed different than that of its neighbor. Checking closely, he found a small groove in the back so he slipped the tip of Cat's Claw into it and pulled upward, revealing a hidden space below the drawer's false bottom.

There was a small bag of coins that he placed into his bag without counting them, several rings and necklaces (though not his own), an ivory and brass pipe, and a very old leather sheath. Picking it up, he squeezed the sides and was surprised to find a silver and gold object inside.

Pulling it from the sheath, he looked upon a silvered hand glass of remarkable craftsmanship. Looking into the glass, he suddenly felt a great revelation. This item was clearly the object that Corsber would most miss out of everything the Mouser had taken. Taking this item was what would make the man truly pay for his deed that night a few weeks earlier. The Mouser smiled at the thought as he put it back in the sheath and then into his bag of loot.

Reaching into the bag, he quickly removed a few of the items he'd stolen from earlier rooms and then planted them in various spots around the rake's room in hopes the puke would be blamed for taking the rest.

His work done, he tied up the now stuffed bag of goods that had not been his until a few minutes earlier and secured it over his shoulder. Climbing down a vine-covered wall with his rapier and the bag, the Gray Mouser smiled once more as he slipped into the shadows and began making his way home.

~F&tGM~

The palanquin and its escort hadn't gotten far when their way was blocked by a large flock of sheep being herded west on the Street of the Gods toward the docks at the far west end. The captain shook his head in frustration. Someone obviously hadn't considered the Festival celebrations when they decided on their shipping date for the sheep. He stepped to the front, just as the sheep pushed forward, pressing against the guards and then against the captain and porters. He released a rather hostile expletive at the animals to no effect.

Having lost to the oncoming livestock and rather than risk another confrontation with the battle-ax, despite the chance of another smile from the princess, he said to his men, "We just passed an alley, so we'll turn back and cut through. About face! Torches high!"

The two men in the front and two men in the back carrying the torches lifted them high to provide as much light as possible to everyone in the party, so Captain Delmar, on seeing everything in order, commanded, "Ready, march!"

Moments later, the captain and lead escorts were turning into a dark alley, now dimly lit by the torches, followed by the palanquin carried by its eight porters, and then the trailing guard with just a bit more light. If all went well from here on out, Delmar figured they'd be home in less than fifteen minutes.

At least that's what he figured….

~F&tGM~


	4. Dark is an Alley

The Gray Mouser was clinging to the blackest shadows as he quietly slipped down a dark alley in the Temple District. He was headed generally south toward home using only the light of the stars above to allow him to track his course down the alley.

He was a bit frustrated that he hadn't found his old boots or his necklace, but he figured he'd make enough from this haul that he'd be able to repay Fafhrd the money he'd borrowed, pay his share of the overdue rent, and maybe buy a new necklace medallion. It was then as he was thinking of a new design that he heard an out-of-place noise.

It was a gentle thrum that he immediately associated with the sound of a taut bowstring being plucked. He froze and searched his surroundings as carefully as he could in the darkness with his eyes, ears, and nose.

At first, he thought he heard a hesitant breath, but he wasn't sure until the breather moved ever-so-slightly. The man was less than ten feet ahead of him on the right side of the alley, hugged tight against the side of a building.

The Mouser was considering his options when the thrum happened again. This time, however, the silence was broken by a sharp "Shhh!" from just a few feet away on the other side of the alley. Another figure slowly resolved into view as it moved and whispered, barely audibly, "Be quiet! They'll be here any time now."

Just as the second shadow finished his comment, the Mouser heard the sound of marching and then the faintest sign of light coming from around a bend just ahead.

~F&tGM~

She wasn't sure what it was but the sound of thuds followed by sharp cries alerted Princess Altennia to the fact that something wasn't right outside her palanquin. She started to draw back the curtain only to have Mistress Sherena gently swat her hand away. "Careful, Princess! Keep the cover closed where we'll be safe."

Altennia shook her head as she replied, "Mistress Sherena, if you think this cloth covering can keep us safe if there's danger, you're crazy. Personally, I much prefer to depend on the good men of our escort." With a determined look, she reached out and drew back the curtain.

The porters were standing still but appeared to be in fear for their lives. As indentured servants promised their freedom for a defined length of service, they would be sold into permanent slavery in the galleys if they failed to fulfill their contract. That threat kept them rooted in place.

Altennia looked back to see both of the rear torches on the ground next to two of her escort soldiers, with two others standing with spears before them as if ready to face an opponent. They were calling for the captain as they sought in vain for their enemies.

She glanced back to the front to see the captain and two guards running toward her as another sickening "Thuck" sound came from the rear. She turned back once more to see the one on the left starting to pitch to the side; it was then that she saw the glint of an arrowhead sticking out the back of his neck.

"Princess! Stay inside!" ordered Captain Delmar as he squeezed by the palanquin with his sword in his hand going back to assist his troops.

~F&tGM~

It happened quickly and was obviously well planned. Following the initial attack on the rear, the man who appeared to be the leader ordered the front two men to guard the forefront, with the others turning to follow him to help with the fight behind the palanquin.

As soon as this occurred, the front soldiers lowered their spears to guard against anything approaching from the front.

With the torchlight backlighting the men before him, the Gray Mouser now saw that there were actually four men in the forward ambuscade and that they were drawing arrows to cut down the remaining troops. With the torch near them, the escort soldiers could not see more than a few feet while the light made them perfect targets for the assassins.

The Mouser had dealt with death and destruction in the streets of Lankhmar for most of the time since his early childhood, so he had no qualms about seeing it happen here. However, he had something of a sense of fairness that he'd learned from Fafhrd, Glavas Rho, and, to a degree, Sheelba of the Eyeless Face. Seeing these soldiers die without warning or even a chance to defend themselves rubbed him the wrong way.

Pulling Cat's Claw as he silently stepped forward, he drove its point up and into the noisy assassin's heart before the man knew what had happened. Pushing him against the wall, the Mouser drew Scalpel as he stepped across the narrow alley at the rear man on the far side.

This assassin heard something from his noisy companion and started to turn to see, but it was too late. The Mouser made a precise slash just under the nearly drawn arrow, cutting through the bowstring and then immediately thereafter, the man's throat. Kicking him backward and out of the way, the thief turned toward the two kneeling archers in the front.

He was too late as he saw both arrows fly. One sunk into the left guard's chest while the second just missed the sergeant and hit the front right porter in the arm. That unfortunate man cried out in pain and the Mouser added to the commotion by calling out, "Guard! Ambush! Charge forward to engage or you'll die!"

~F&tGM~

Hearing fighting to the front as well as to the rear, Mistress Sherena drew back the curtain and screamed at the palanquin bearers, "Don't just stand there, you idiots! Run!"

The poor porters were well trained to follow orders, but typically those of an authority and not a hysterical passenger. With fighting in both directions, they remained where they were, though one did push the woman's head back inside and close the curtain behind her.

~F&tGM~

The forward sergeant must have had the same idea for he tossed the last torch forward, exposing the two assassins rising from their kneeling positions just as the Mouser shouted. He lowered his spear and charged forward to engage the archer on his side.

The Mouser considered leaving at this point since it seemed to be approaching a fair fight, but the front assassin on his side of the street had other ideas. Pulling a long, sharp sword as he rose, he tossed the bow and turned back toward the thief.

"You'll be sorry you interfered in our business, little man!" His sword darted out toward the Mouser, who met and deflected it with his own. Quickly thrusting and slashing, stabbing and cutting, the obviously well-trained assassin drove forward unmercifully, pushing the thief back, back, back.

When they were back far enough that the Mouser felt the man would have become a little overconfident and it would be more difficult for the man to see him as well with the dim torchlight well to his rear, he redrew Cat's Claw with his left hand, planted a foot as he parried, and with a couple of deft moves of his sword, moved inside the assassin's guard, thrusting the dagger into the man's torso and then twisting it to bring the man down. The dim reflection in the dying man's eyes briefly showed disbelief before they started to glaze over, seeing no more, not even the briefly arched eyebrows and little shrug from the man he'd been so disdainful of only moments before.

The sergeant just a few feet ahead seemed to be well matched with his opponent, so with the odds evened out once more, the Mouser decided it was time to leave to let nature takes it course. However, as he was about to turn away, he heard a woman in the palanquin scream.

~F&tGM~


	5. Trust Issues

Pulling the curtain up once more, Princess Altennia peeked out the side and to the rear of the vehicle to see Captain Delmar and the last guard desperately fighting two black-clad men. One of the torches on the ground was extinguished and the other appeared to be on its last leg.

She was turning back toward Mistress Sherena when the curtain on the other side opened. Sherena let out a bloodcurdling scream as a man with a grease-blackened face reached in and grabbed her leg. Realizing that he had an older woman and not the young princess he was expecting, he threw her leg up and back, tipping the older woman backward with only the front side of the palanquin cover keeping her from falling off the front of the litter. Letting go of her, he tried for the other rider just as the porters shifted from trying to get out of his way.

Altennia's hand had already slid under the hem of her dress, and on seeing the highwayman, she drew the slim, short-bladed dirk she wore strapped to her calf when outside the Rainbow Palace. As the man succeeded in grabbing her leg just above the foot, she slashed out with the bejeweled but razor sharp knife, nicking first his arm and then slicing his cheek. Still, he clung to her, trying to pull her out of the now violently shifting palanquin as three of the porters dropped their poles and ran away.

The princess attempted to slash at him again, but this time the man was ready. He caught her wrist and pulled Altennia toward him, causing her to slide partially out of the elevated litter before she was able to reach across with her other hand and grab the far support pole. Her little blade, however, went flying as the man squeezed her wrist. She was trying to bring her other foot around to kick at his face when suddenly the man's expression changed. Slowly, he let go and then collapsed backward.

In his place stood a short but decent-looking young man holding out a hand. "Lady, you'd better come with me if you don't want them to capture you. You," he said, looking at the disheveled chaperone trying to regain a seated position and get the bottom part of her dress back in place, "should be safe if you lie down until they're gone. Help the wounded when they go."

Altennia looked back once more to see an obviously wounded captain barely parrying the thrusts coming at him. The other guard was collapsed and holding his chest.

Taking the young man's hand she asked as he swung her down to the ground, "How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't, but I can assure you that you can't trust them. Come with me now or I'll leave you to them!"

"Well, then, don't just stand there," she replied at once. "Let's go!"

Holding her hand tightly, he led her down the alley past the two men in front who were still stalemated in their battle. The assassin tried to take a swipe at the Gray Mouser as they ran past, but the Mouser deflected the thrust allowing the sergeant to press his attack. This forced the assassin to turn his attention back to the guard just before the sergeant's spearpoint entered his stomach.

As soon as they were past, the Gray Mouser took off at a run, pulling the frightened young woman along with him.

~F&tGM~

Having spent most of his childhood on the streets of Lankhmar and a good part of his adult years learning even more about the city, the Mouser knew the city probably as well as anyone alive. He turned down first one small alley and then another. Suddenly he came to a stop.

"Time to get off of the ground," he told her. Jumping up, he grabbed the bottom rung of a ladder that he couldn't even see in the dark and pulled himself up. When he had his feet on the rung, he held down a hand and whispered, "Reach up and grab my hand."

"But I can't see it!"

"Jump toward my voice and I'll grab you," he commanded.

It took three tries before their hands connected. When they did, his muscles seemed to almost cry out as he used all of his available strength to pull the young woman up even with him. "Ahem, you can climb a ladder, right?"

Perhaps it was fortunate for the Gray Mouser that it was so dark since the intense glare she gave in his direction might have done him serious damage if he'd been able to see it. "I am the Princess Altennia of House Ovartamortes. I can climb whatever I damn well please."

~F&tGM~

At the ambush site, the sergeant had rescued the wounded Captain Delmar and found two other guards clinging to life. Mistress Sherena helped bandage one of the men, but the sergeant ordered the group forward since he didn't know if other attackers might be arriving soon. Besides, they needed to get word of the attack and the princess's disappearance to the Rainbow Palace.

Within about a minute of their departure, two more black-clad men arrived on the scene carrying torches. On observing the state of the ambush site, the leader found the lead assassin who had fought the sergeant still barely alive.

The dying man gasped, "Von-dah...ghzi-o...the prin-cess...es-caped...with a...little man. Not...a guard. He killed...others...in my group."

Vondahghzio looked at the carnage around him and then said to the dying man, "We will deal with this man and the princess. Now, sleep, Llarn, my brother." He quickly finished the job of putting the man out of his suffering. Turning to his companion, he said, "Kevlas, notify those on the outer perimeter to be on the lookout for a little man and the princess. We must avenge our brothers-in-arms as well as capturing the girl. Go."

The second man turned and ran as the leader held his torch high to get one more look at the scene. A glint caught his eye so he looked closer and found a small knife with a jeweled handle. There was a bit of blood on the blade. Considering the battlefield, he checked the nearest dead assassin and found a cut on his cheek but a larger, killing wound in his abdomen. Nodding, he pocketed the knife and then quickly made his getaway.

~F&tGM~

A little while later after crossing a number of rooftops, a small man and a rumpled young woman with mussed hair were next to a chimney on a high roof where several slopes seemed to converge. The Mouser had hidden there a few times in his youth after stealing bread, fruits, or coin purses from the marketplace. They sat down with their backs to the chimney to rest for a few minutes.

The Gray Mouser still couldn't believe his bad luck that of all the women in the world, he would have to rescue a princess, and not just any princess, but "the princess," the Overlord's daughter, at that. She still hadn't spoken another word to him since the little incident at the ladder. What he was about to do would probably ensure that she wouldn't speak to him for a lot longer.

"Princess, I'm sorry but we really need to change your appearance if we're going to ever get you home safely."

"I know. I was just wondering how we could do that. I don't have any makeup or wigs or clothes or anything," she said.

The Mouser was mildly stunned at her ready agreement but he decided to press forward before she changed her mind. "I have everything we need, but you're going to have to trust me."

"You're not going to hurt me?"

"No, that's not my plan. I'll help if you'll let me. Otherwise, I can just go."

Barely able to see her in the dark night, he thought he saw an almost imperceptible nod. "Take down your hair."

Her brownish blonde hair almost glistened in the starlight. The Mouser ran his hands around the flue of the chimney and then through her hair a number of times. Then, he pulled it back, divided it into three parts, and went on to braid it up before tying it up with a string pulled from the bottom of her dress. Then he ran his hands through the chimney again and got some more of the grimy black soot, which he used to cover the braid as well as he could. The last of the soot went on her cheeks and forehead.

"I'm going to cut your dress now," he whispered.

"No! This is my favorite dress," she replied in an equally soft voice.

"Dead women don't have favorite dresses."

A sharp huff denoted her surrender, followed by a whispered but deliberate, "I hate you and this mess we're in."

He raised the bottom hem and proceeded to cut out the dress's white liner. It was too dark so he couldn't peek at what felt to be at least fairly shapely legs.

"My father will flog you or worse if you persist in touching me. It might make me less valuable to whatever old coot wants a virgin princess as his wife."

For the second time that night, it was fortunate it was dark, but this time, it was so that the princess did not see the bright red flush that crossed the Mouser's cheeks at the rather inappropriate thought that followed. "Sorry," he said to buy her silence rather than to seek her actual forgiveness. Rubbing the white liner in the chimney flue, he slit the fabric and then added, "This is your shawl. Put it around your shoulders to hide the top of the dress. Now, let's modify the bottom part."

Reaching down, he used Cat's Claw to start cutting off the outer part of her dress at about knee level.

"You're touching me again."

"Princess, you try cutting in a reasonably straight line without having something to guide you." A little perturbed, he made sure he rubbed against her legs a few more times as he sliced around the dress, secretly pleased with himself at the little indiscretions. However, upon noting that she wasn't complaining anymore, he felt a bit defeated and cut the last little section without any more contact with her royalness.

"There, good enough." He quickly rolled it up and stuffed it into his bag to keep the kidnappers from gaining any more information about her description. "Okay, time to get you somewhere safe for the night so we can get you home tomorrow."

Taking her hand, he started leading her across the dark rooftops of Lankhmar.

~F&tGM~


	6. A Long Night

_Princess shoes may be pretty to princesses,_ thought the Gray Mouser, _but they aren't worth squat for walking, particularly on rooftops, or for doing it very quietly._

It wasn't long before he had her out of the dainty noisemakers and fashioned her a pair of foot-wraps using the bottom of her dress that he pulled back out of his bag. The shoes took the cloth's place in the bag. The wraps worked well on flat surfaces, but Altennia had to cling closely to him as they went up and back down some of the steeper slopes. It wasn't long before she continued to hold on to him on the flatter surfaces, too.

They crossed several connected rooftops before they came to a wide street below. Squatting down the Mouser studied the scene below, while the princess looked on. With a few oil lamps along the street casting dim glows, she soon thought she recognized one of the adjacent buildings.

"Is...is that the Street of the Gods?" she asked quietly. When the Mouser gave a whispered affirmation, she added, "I was on that street earlier this evening. We got stuck and had to take a back alley, which is where we were attacked. If we'd just been a bit earlier or a bit later, none of this would have happened."

"No, Princess," replied the Mouser softly, "I doubt that. I suspect that the people who attacked you had it all set up so you'd have to go that way. They wanted something. Since they killed most if not all of your guards and that one was trying to pull you out of your ride, I'd be pretty sure it was you that was top priority to them."

She nodded silently in the dark. "Why do you think they want me?"

"Just a guess but someone probably has it in for your father, the Overlord. With you in hand, they could potentially kill the rest of your family to take power, and then trot you, the last of the Ovartamortes dynasty, out as their queen to legitimize their rule. As soon as that's done, your value is essentially gone. It would be better to get rid of you at that point to keep you from making a reverse play at the throne."

"I don't get along all that great with my father, but I sure don't want anything bad to happen to him," she breathed. "What am I supposed to do?"

The Mouser took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze as he replied, "We keep them from taking you, of course. Now, we have to get across this street and then south into the Tenderloin District where they'll never find you."

"South?" she asked. "Why aren't we heading north toward the palace? I'll be safe there."

"Sure, but with everyone knowing that, the chances of us making it there are pretty small. On the other hand, they probably won't be on the lookout for a drunken man and a strumpet out for a walk heading home to the south after the festival. You'll have to hang all over me to make it look real-"

"You wouldn't dare make me do that!" Her voice was raised dangerously high.

"No, Princess. I wouldn't make you do it. You only have to do it if you want to actually escape."

~F&tGM~

With Altennia's arms around his neck and her lips practically kissing on his ear, the stumbling trip across the Street of the Gods and south into the Tenderloin District was surprisingly uneventful though the Mouser was pretty uncomfortable from her actions. While they didn't cross unseen, they were unsuspected; the watchful eyes searching for "a little man and the princess" initially tracked their movements but soon switched to other drunken revelers making a similar trek toward their homes in less affluent parts of town to the south.

It took the pair a couple more hours of very close cooperation before the Gray Mouser finally lifted a latch on a back gate and led Altennia into his building. He'd taken breaks to be sure they weren't followed a few times, doubled back, and even taken back to the rooftops for a short period. As a result, he was finally convinced that no one had followed them. Still, climbing the steps was a slow process, as much from caution about potential threats from the assassins or common thieves as the princess's near exhaustion. She had been clinging to him even more closely without complaints or threats for quite some time.

He placed his bag on the little table and lit the remains of the only candle in the sparse apartment. Turning back to the princess, he was going to ask her if she wished to clean herself up, but he saw she was already curled up on his bed, her shortened dress exposing a bit more of the back of her upper thighs than she would probably have liked. He enjoyed the view for a moment before reminding himself that she was a princess and probably shouldn't be quite so exposed so he forced himself to look away.

As he was about to lie down on Fafhrd's bed, he paused for a moment and then turned back to take one more quick peek at her legs. Blowing out the candle followed by a short but quiet catcall whistle, he settled in to go to sleep with a sly smile on his face.

~F&tGM~

The sun was just coming up as Fafhrd reached the tenement building. It had been a long night at the seedy bar down at the dock, but he'd kept some semblance of order throughout the night and even had fun in a couple of the scuffles. All of the brawlers had ended up in the street or the water and he had a few more coins in his pocket as a result.

He opened the door and was surprised to see their little candle stub burning and a beautiful young lady with hints of what looked like soot marks on her face sitting in the middle of the Mouser's bed using a hand glass to look at herself in the dim light. The little man was sprawled out and fast asleep on Fafhrd's bed. Clearly, this wasn't Geena and, from what he saw, whatever plans the Mouser might have had for this young lady evidently hadn't gone as planned. As he neared her, his eyes widened in a hint of doubtful recognition.

"Uh, hello?"

The young lady looked up, her eyes also wide. "Good morning! Mouser said his friend was tall, but I thought he might be exaggerating."

Fafhrd grinned and tipped his head slightly, still doubting his eyes. "Well, he has been known to do that from time to time, but probably not in this case." Hoping for confirmation, he added, "I'm Fafhrd. And you are?"

"Completely in love with him," sighed the girl, looking over at the peaceful sleeper with that special look generally reserved for the completely infatuated.

The girl continued, "It's so crazy, I didn't realize it until just a few minutes ago."

Or the spellbound, thought Fafhrd. He knew his small friend sometimes had interesting effects on women, but it was usually when he was awake and they were perhaps slightly inebriated and certainly much less royal. "Hmm, can you tell me what brought this on?"

"Certainly. Do you have any water I can use to clean my face while I do? And maybe a towel? I have to make myself look good for him. I just lit the candle a few minutes before you came in and I found that I'm a total mess!"

Fafhrd directed her to a half-empty jug of water and a basin, and when he didn't see the cloth the Mouser used as a towel, he handed her a small, clean undertunic he dug out of a chest at the foot of the Mouser's bed.

As she washed her face and hands, the young woman quickly told the tale of the initial rescue—

That explains why there are so many of the Overlord's troops out in the streets this morning, thought Fafhrd.

—and how the Gray Mouser had helped her change her appearance. "And now I can't get it off," she added with a laugh as she glanced at herself in an expensive-looking hand glass. Continuing to scrub she added, "He carried me parts of the way and we even faked our way past some people by pretending to be a whore and her john."

"Your father would be quite proud, I'm sure."

She laughed lightly, "No, probably not, but it was quite exciting. In fact, it was the most exciting night of my life!"

"I see," said the giant barbarian, briefly wondering just how exciting the life of a princess might ordinarily be. "But you said you realized you were in love with him just a few minutes ago?"

"Oh, yes! He was really careful with this bag last night so I looked through it and found this wonderful silvered mirror. When I looked into it, it was so clear, as if everything I'd been seeking in life was suddenly revealed to me!"

"Which is?"

"Life! Love! Him!"

Fafhrd was nodding questioningly and held out a hand. "May I see the hand glass?"

She shook her head, almost petulantly. He nodded again, knowingly this time. Reaching into his trunk, he pulled out a hair brush he used on his own hair and beard. He cleared it of his reddish-blonde hair and then handed it to her. She sighed again as she started to use it to fix her hair.

"What's going on?" asked a disheveled Mouser, rising slightly as he opened one eye and then the other.

"Mouser, the Princess here is under a spell from that hand glass she's holding," replied Fafhrd, kneeling down and whispering to his friend.

Being an occasional student of and dabbler in the darker arts, Fafhrd's contention didn't appear to even faze the Gray Mouser as he replied almost incredulously, "You knew who she is?"

Fafhrd's eyes narrowed slightly in amusement as he looked at his friend. "Of course. She's the princess the Overlord's been trying to marry off. Didn't you?"

~F&tGM~


	7. The Best Laid Plans

"Mouser! My sweet love!" exclaimed Altennia on seeing him sitting up. "You're awake! Can I call the servants to fix your breakfast for you, my dearest?"

Fafhrd was lucky he had turned partially away from the princess for he was able to cover his surprised snort as something approximating a coughing attack as he tried his best to keep from bursting out laughing.

The Gray Mouser, on the other hand, was forced to endure a red flush as he shook his head. "No, Princess, we must keep anyone from learning of your presence, so we can't call anyone."

She hung her head as she nodded and replied, "I understand. But can you tell me where your privy is? I really need to make a visit."

Fafhrd's coughing attack returned with a vengeance as he rolled his eyes at his small friend.

~F&tGM~

With the hastily redisguised princess refreshed from an escorted trip to the common privy at the far end of the building and nourished with some bread and cheese from the shelf, she was sitting cross-legged in Fafhrd's large chair as she brushed her hair while taking frequent looks into the hand glass that she still refused to let the men see.

The Gray Mouser glanced at her with concern but quickly forced a smile when she caught his glance. Her face lit up into a broad smile of her own followed by a seemingly demure look away as she continued to stroke the brush through her hair.

The Mouser was not too surprised to hear of the troops on the streets following what had happened just a few hours earlier. As he sat on the windowsill holding his mug, he looked down into the street below and across the city's rooftops in the distance. Fafhrd approached and stood next to the window, leaning against the jamb as he looked out over his friend.

"Do you really think she's under a spell from the glass?" asked Mouser. "Or do you think it's just my natural charm and good looks?"

Fafhrd chuckled softly and replied, "Mouser, we can always hope against hope, but I'm definitely going with the spell this time." He quickly filled his small friend in on the discussion with the princess and her overly protective possession of the silvered hand glass.

When he concluded, Mouser was nodding. "When I picked it up and looked at it, it was obvious to me that losing it was what would hurt that bastard the most. Of course, I'm not sure it if was a spell or just the fine quality of it and its obvious worth in comparison to everything else the jerk had. Either way, I knew I had to get it away from Corsber and its worth into my coin purse."

"As tightly as she's holding on to the thing, I'm not sure if that will ever happen," laughed Fafhrd. "Now the big question is, how do we break the spell?"

The Mouser rubbed the bit of stubble on his chin as he sipped his drink and thought. Suddenly he asked, "Do we really have to break it?"

"Most likely. Unless you want Overlord Karstak-you know, her dad?-to break you."

Mouser sighed longingly and then went back to thinking. Fafhrd's eyes widened questioningly as the little man started to nod a few moments later. "You have something?"

"Possibly. During my apprenticeship with the great Glavas Rho, he taught me many things. Of course, my understanding of much of it is incomplete but one thing I recall is that he always said that any spell can be broken."

Fafhrd leaned in close and asked, "How?"

"Well, I think it depends on the spell. If it's a person casting it, you have to break their concentration if it's a short-term charm, or their connection if it's a long-term spell."

"So, hit them if it's short, and kill them if it's long?" asked the barbarian. "That sounds a bit extreme, don't you think, since we don't know if she's just infatuated with you for today or if she's to be your love slave forever. I wouldn't mind bopping her over the head, but killing her to get rid of it sounds like it's going a bit overboard."

"Yeah. I think there are other ways, too, but I don't know them. Fortunately, while she seems to have triggered the spell, I don't think she's the connection. The spell was in the hand glass itself. That's another whole story."

"What do you mean?"

Mouser glanced over at her again before replying, "A magical device acts sort of like a bottle with some smoky fumes trapped inside. If you uncork the top and wave it around, some of the smokiness will drift out and you'll smell it. When she looked in that mirror, it was like opening the top and the spell drifted out and touched her. Therefore, the hand glass is the key. We have to get rid of the hand glass to get rid of the spell."

"I suspect you'll have to fight her for it, so we may have to do that head bopping after all," grinned Fafhrd mischieviously. Becoming more serious, he continued, "Assuming you can get it away from her, how do you get rid of it? Drop it in the sewer or throw it out in the Inner Sea?"

"No," replied the Gray Mouser. "I'm thinking of something a little more drastic. Remember that big war hammer you took off that huge highwayman who mistakenly tried to accost us last summer? The one when we were coming back from our trip to Earth's End?"

"Ugh! Don't remind me. What about it?"

"I told you not to, but you hauled it home, over, what? 200 miles? And then you couldn't find anyone to buy it because it's as slow as molasses to use and you have to be as strong as an ox to even pick it up. Do you still have it?"

Fafhrd shook his head, "No, I lost it to Krinch in a card game a while back."

"Krinch! That big oaf? No way!" exclaimed the Mouser. "You'd never lose to Krinch. That guy's as dumb as a rock-"

"And as strong as that ox," finished Fafhrd, grinning once again. "It made him happy to win for a change and it got it out from under my bed."

"Oh. Well, what it amounts to is that magical objects are really hard to break. Do you think you could get it back from him?"

~F&tGM~

"Acck! You startled me!" exclaimed the richly dressed man who had just entered the room. He was looking at the dark figure sitting at his desk with both boots propped on the edge. "Though I guess your presence shouldn't have been a real surprise. I knew you'd come. My people tell me that the word on the street is that you failed, that the princess escaped, and that the Overlord has troops searching all over the city for her."

Despite the summer heat, the man in black had his hood up and his face concealed behind a matching black mask that revealed only his piercing steely eyes. The man nodded as he said, "Phase I of my plan went awry, true, but that doesn't mean that the backup phases will. I always have multiple backups. We will still get the girl, and now, the little man helping her."

"You'd better. I hired you and brought you from half a continent away because of your reputation and the fact that you can't be tied back to me. Vondahghzio, you're supposed to be the best; if I had wanted incompetence, I could have hired local yokels at far less than your rate."

One boot left the desk and was deliberately placed on the floor below, with the other still resting on the desktop. "Or perhaps your own security staff. They really did a bang-up job of keeping me out."

"I can have five men in here to rescue me in twenty seconds," threatened the man.

"So, fifteen seconds after you're dead, I'd have to kill five more men charging in to face an unknown situation. I'd take those odds any time, any place. Of course, you'd never know," said the assassin, suddenly balancing a throwing knife that hadn't been there a moment before, "with you being dead and all."

The rich man frowned and then waved his hands. "Enough of this nonsense!" Putting emphasis on the phrase just like the man only seconds before, he said, "Of course, you're going to fulfill your end of the agreement and I'm going to pay you the other half of your fee like good, civilized people. When will you have her?"

"Soon, but I will need a little local assistance. A wizard, to cast a certain spell."

"Bah! Wizards. They're bad news," warned the rich man. "Dealing with wizards can get you burned. Are you sure there's not another way?"

"There's always another way," agreed Vondahghzio, "but there's not always a better way. In this case, the best way requires a wizard."

"Don't say I didn't warn you." He quickly dipped a quill in his inkwell, wrote a name and a street, and then waved the paper quickly to dry it.

"Don't worry, I've dealt with wizards before...on both sides of a contract. Just give me the name." The other boot dropped from the desk and the assassin shot upward, surprising the man, who extended a shaky hand with the paper.

Taking the note, Vondahghzio glanced at it and then held it over the candle before dropping it on the hearth of the fireplace behind the desk. "Thank you, good sir. I'll see myself out." He walked to the balcony door and was about to open it when he turned back. "One more thing. If you ever say my name out loud again, it will be the last time you ever say it...or anything else."

Then he was gone.

~F&tGM~


	8. Difficulties, Great and Small

Despite being tired, or possibly because of it, Fafhrd spent most of the rest of the morning searching before he finally found Krinch. The man, who rivaled Fafhrd in height and significantly exceeded him in weight, was slumped over asleep at a back table in The Dancing Dryad. The man was seated where he could have studied the painting of the tavern's shapely naked namesake over the bar if he'd been able to stay awake.

"Krinch! Awake, you clod," laughed Fafhrd. "There's ale to drink and women to—"

Glancing around, he realized that Estheralla, the tavernkeeper's middle-aged and somewhat dowdy wife, was the only woman present, so he concluded, "—well, there's ale to drink."

"Ale!" roared Krinch, who groggily raised his head from the table. "Fafhrd! You crazy coot! Join me and we'll—burrrppp—drink ale and sing of great and noble deeds."

Despite the fact that any such deeds would most likely have been performed by someone other than Krinch, Fafhrd nodded to the drunken man and took a seat. Estheralla brought two new mugs at Fafhrd's signal.

Soon the tavern was filled with Krinch's drunken wails tempered by Fafhrd's dulcet tones that were well practiced from years before with his mother and tribe around many a campfire in the far northern climes.

~F&tGM~

Mouser was quite uncomfortable with the princess pushing herself atop him and nibbling playfully at his ear. Finding himself in this situation would ordinarily be a dream come true, but when a princess was involved, and particularly one in her rather delicate virginal condition, he could not afford to take any chances.

"Oh, Mouser, my love! We should get married and move far away so my father—"

—There's that word again,groused the Gray Mouser to himself. It's amazing how a girl's dad having his own army and a fleet constantly needing galley slaves can ruin an otherwise perfectly naughty and fun situation.

"—would never find us," she purred. "We could have so much fun together and have such beautiful babies."

And there's the other one. I really have to get out of here and break this spell. Shifting suddenly, he slid her sideways as he pushed himself the other way, falling out of his bed onto the hard floor below.

"Mouser! Are you okay, dear?"

He stretched as he rose, and then sidestepped toward the window as the young woman tried to wrap herself around his nearest leg. Just missing, her lips pursed in disappointment as she saw him move to the window and look out over the city and the street below.

Fafhrd, where are you? If you don't get here soon, the Overlord is going to kill me! Though I may die really happy.

~F&tGM~

Having a top floor apartment, even one as small as their temporary home, sometimes had its advantages. The view across the city was pretty good since the building stood on a slight rise and the buildings just across the street were a couple of stories shorter. The perspective of the street below was pretty decent, too, and the occasional breeze made some summer nights reasonably bearable.

The four flights of stairs, on the other hand, were never all that much fun, and climbing them with the massive war hammer Fafhrd thought he'd already gotten rid of forever made it even worse. The heavy timber stringer on each side of the stair creaked as the barbarian climbed ever upward, placing one foot ahead of the other. The big, iron-bound handle bit against the side of his neck with each passing step that he took.

Breathing a sigh of relief as he finally reached the top floor, he stepped out into the narrow corridor toward the room he'd shared with the Mouser for the past few months. He stopped in front of the door to pull the key from his pocket when the door popped open.

"Fafhrd! You got it. Thank heavens! Did you have any trouble?"

"Just a bit. Five mugs of ale, four songs, and a promise to never take it back to him."

Mouser looked a bit confused. "That really doesn't sound that bad."

"No? You've obviously never heard Krinch sing."

"True. Well, we have to break the spell right away. It's getting stronger with each passing minute, and now I think it's starting to affect me, too."

Despite the extensive knowledge that he had learned from his mother and the other women of his tribe, the giant northerner didn't know much about spellcraft. Still, he gave the Mouser a doubting look on the last part as he set the hammer down on the floor with something of a rumble. "I really doubt that the spell has much to do with the effect on you, and more to do with three specific words: beautiful young princess."

"Possibly so, but we have to break the spell and get her home to her father before it's too late!"

Fafhrd smiled briefly at his little friend's discomfort, but knowing that something had to be done sooner rather than later, he replied, "How are we going to do it? I suspect she's not going to be all that happy about us snatching her beautiful toy, so we need to get and break it in short order. When the spell breaks, I suspect she may not be all that happy with us either, so we may need to be prepared to tie her up and gag her or even give her a little tap on the head, if needed, so we can sneak her back to her dad without the whole city knowing. I can get a big basket if needed."

The Gray Mouser was nodding in agreement on at least the first part, and then he pointed to the little fireplace. "If we put it on the hearth right next to the firebox, it should be strong enough to keep from bringing the whole building down when you hit it. That hole in the ceiling should allow you to get a good swing if you stand parallel to the ceiling joists and swing right between them."

Fafhrd looked at the hole and the layout and saw that it could work, but he was still a bit doubtful. He really didn't want to smash their little fireplace that doubled as their cooking oven in case they were still living there during the coming winter. "Maybe we should be doing this down on the street?"

Mouser shook his head. "I don't think we'd want anyone seeing us or recognizing the princess. We still have to get her home after we break the spell." Seeing Fafhrd's look, he added, "It'll be fine."

"Sadly, I believe I remember you saying something like that last part at least a few times before...usually just before people started trying to kill us."

The little man frowned at his friend for a moment, but then said, "Let's get that hand glass and break this spell."

~F&tGM~

"Princess Altennia, we need to talk about something," said the Mouser, dreading what he was going to have to do.

"Oh! You sound so formal! What is it, dearest?" she asked sweetly as she stepped in close to him. Her fingers lightly sliding down his arm caused him to tingle, and her breath felt hot against his cheek. He wanted to back away, but she had succeeded in entwining him once again, and the heat he felt was far more than that of the Mid-Summer day that the city had celebrated just hours before.

Drawing a breath, he said, as if painfully, "Princess, we have a problem with that hand glass. We, ahem, think it's evil, that it's causing you trouble."

She shook her head quickly, in short quick shakes, "No, Mouser! It's not, I promise! I love my mirror!"

"As much as you love me?"

The headshakes became slower as she thought about what he asked. "No, Mouser. I'm so sorry. I like my mirror, which is really yours anyway, but I love you." Pulling it from a pocket in her dress that Mouser didn't even know existed, she raised the silver hand glass with its gold inlay and took a longing look into its depths. "It doesn't look evil."

"It a magic hand glass," explained Mouser patiently, "so we can't actually see that it's evil, but that's often the way magic works. It makes things look normal so you really don't notice them. It just keeps getting worse and worse over time until it's too late to do anything about it."

Fafhrd, standing by the fireplace with the big hammer sitting on the hearth next to him, nodded silently in agreement as he listened to Mouser's words. He resisted the urge to cross his fingers, since he really didn't want to have to wrestle the hand glass away from the young woman or to have to knock her over the head, despite how he'd teased Mouser earlier.

Her eyes became cloudy. "So what are you going to do with it?" she asked as she held it out to the Gray Mouser.

He was quite surprised to see her give it up so easily, but she was, after all, completely under its spell and madly in love with him, so he figured that her ready compliance was a very convenient side benefit. Taking the beautiful piece by its handle, he flipped it around so he could look into the depths of its silvered glass one last time before he and his barbarian friend destroyed the object.

It was by far the clearest image of himself that he'd ever seen, but it did not reveal any great insight to him as it had the first time he had looked upon it. However, Altennia was being rather calm about the situation, so he decided to answer her truthfully.

"Princess, this is a magic mirror. It's cast a spell on you, so we have to do something to break the spell. We do that by breaking the mirror, which is why Fafhrd is standing here with this ridiculously large and dreadful hammer. My former master of all things arcane, the great Glavas Rho, taught me that it's really difficult to break magical devices, so we're hoping that between Fafhrd and that monstrosity, we'll be able to break it."

It was Altennia's turn to be doubtful as she looked at the silver mirror in Mouser's hand. "Mouser, I really wish you didn't have to do that. I really like it, and it looks so old and beautiful. Are you sure?"

Mouser nodded as he looked at the marvelous workmanship. He wondered briefly at who might have created it or what the circumstances might have been when it was created so long ago, but he really had no idea so he put that out of his mind as he answered her. "Princess, an ordinary object like this can usually be broken relatively easily, but a magical object is infused with the essences of power that, sadly, I never got to learn due to my master's murder. The magical work becomes much tougher and durable so it's able to last through many events that would destroy lesser objects."

He pulled Cat's Claw from its sheath behind his back and reversed his grip so he was holding the blade with the grip sticking out. "You see, if someone was to hit a regular hand glass with my dagger, the silvered glass would easily break, but since it's a magic mirror, we're hoping that Fafhrd's folly will be able to break it. We're really not sure. See, watch this," he said as he rapped Cat Claw's pommel knob sharply against the glass.

_Tinkkh._

Lankhmar was a city that never truly slept so there was always noise in its streets, its buildings, and its docks; the many and varied noises of the city were nearly constant. As such, most citizens of the city were able to tune out much of the clatter and concentrate only on the most significant sounds around them.

At that particular moment, the most reverberating and meaningful sound in the whole city of Lankhmar may have been that tiny "tink" as Cat's Claw's little pommel struck that silvered glass encased in the wonderfully crafted silver and gold inlaid hand glass. The Mouser's eyes widened in utter surprise and Fafhrd's mouth dropped open as a spiderweb crack covered much of the face of the glass.

A moment of silence ensued in that top level apartment but it was broken a moment later as each man spoke the other's name questioningly. They had no time to say more, however, for a challengingly hissed "No!" reached their ears.

Turning, they saw a very angry princess standing with her hands on her hips giving them both the most evil of looks imaginable. Perhaps it is unsurprising that a great sense of relief at the spell being broken so easily swept over both men as the princess' lips became a thin, straight line and her brow furrowed deeply.

"I cannot believe you really broke my wonderful hand glass," she said slowly. "I wanted to be able to use it forever to be beautiful for you! Now I'll have to do that without it...unless, my dearest Mouser, you can get me a new one!"

~F&tGM~


	9. A Day in Hiding

Their sense of relief was quite short lived and was then ripped entirely from them as Princess Altennia was once more in Mouser's arms. She alternately scolded him and then smothered him with her love through sweet kisses and gentle caresses. The glass was clearly broken, but the spell, if a true spell it ever was, obviously was not.

Fafhrd hefted the massive hammer in his hands and then swung it up to rest on his shoulder. He was shaking his head, though Mouser wasn't able to tell if it was in humor or disbelief.

"What are you doing?" asked the little man apprehensively even as the princess continued to alternately castigate him for his crime and then forgive him once more.

Fafhrd yawned and then replied, "Heading out, hopefully to get some sleep. I'll be back tonight to help deliver her to the palace."

The Gray Mouser's eyes widened slightly as he realized that Fafhrd was abandoning him to the princess' loving ministrations. Almost pleadingly, he said, "Fafhrd?"

As the giant started to open the door, he turned back toward the Mouser with a grin and said, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

The door closed behind him.

~F&tGM~

After the long trip back down the creaking stairs, Fafhrd made his way across town to Krinch's little room in another tenement structure near the docks. Fortunately, this was only a two story structure with Krinch's little room shoehorned into a small space at the rear in the attic. Climbing the steep and rickety upper stair that made the one in his own building look solid, Fafhrd hoped it wouldn't collapse under the weight of him and the hammer.

Of course, he had carried it down a bit earlier.

Quietly opening the door that he'd pulled closed earlier, he saw that the other big man was still fast asleep on the oversized cot he called his bed in the exact same position as before. Fafhrd breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Tiptoeing into the room, he knelt down beside the cot and then gently swung the hammer down off of his shoulder. Holding it parallel with the floor, Fafhrd was straining as he ever so carefully extended his arms and placed the big weapon back under Krinch's bed. Easing it down quietly, he started to slide it on the rough timber flooring, but it was too noisy, so he stopped immediately and froze.

Krinch shifted slightly on the cot, but didn't awaken, so Fafhrd left the hammer right where it was. He pulled a couple of what appeared to be balled-up winter shirts and a stiff sock from further under the bed behind the hammer, and then draped them loosely to a least partially cover and obscure it. Seeing that it was as good as he could make it, he picked up an overstuffed pillow from a chair and lay down on the floor with it under his head. Moments later, Fafhrd was sound asleep like Krinch.

~F&tGM~

"You don't love me," she said accusingly as she continued her slow pursuit around the little apartment.

Mouser continued to back away, going up, over, and around various items of furniture as he followed an ever circuitous route through the space, but he finally found himself backed up against a wall. He was a bit surprised as a result, but also a little relieved. Considering his innate sense of self preservation, he knew that he would never willingly allow that to happen in combat, so he wondered if he'd actually wanted it to happen. Unfortunately, he had little time to dwell on the issue as the princess' body pressed against him and her lips brushed the little stubble on his face, her breath hot against his cheek.

"Mouser, dearest Mouser, talk to me, my love."

A really pushy woman was normally a big turnoff to the little thief, but the Gray Mouser found that Fafhrd's earlier "beautiful young princess" contention allowed him to overlook a large part of that issue. Still, Daddy Karstak, his troops, and the ever present threat of the grain ship galleys held just enough sway that he forced himself to grasp both of her arms and push her just far enough away so that at least a hint of light could be seen between them.

"Altennia, please. Listen to me."

Surprisingly, that got her attention, and her eyes focused on him questioningly. "Well?"

"Dear, I do care a great deal about you, but you really must stop. You know that I tried my best to save you from those kidnappers and that I tried to protect you from people who wouldn't have cared if you were a princess or a ragamuffin as we fled through the city. Now, you have to back away and let me protect you again."

The hint of her pouty-face returned as she asked, somewhat disbelievingly, "From what?"

Trapped against the wall despite the tiny breathing room between them, he also felt trapped by her beauty, her personality, and her raw sexuality. It was with great effort that he forced out a single syllable.

"Me."

The Gray Mouser wasn't sure exactly what response he was expecting, but the girlish giggle wasn't it.

"Oh, silly! That's the last thing I want," she said as that precious and hard won gap between them evaporated and her hands started to roam across his small but well muscled chest as she tugged on his shirt.

The usually self-assured young man felt himself and his tongue tied in knots as he tried to resist her advances. "But...but, you have to remain a...a..."

She laughed and then whispered, "Silly Mouser, my big sisters taught me long ago before daddy married them off that there's this great word called 'technically'."

His eyes were wide as he questioned exactly what she meant, but she didn't give him the opportunity to ask. Grabbing his shirt with both hands, she kissed him hard and deep on the lips before pulling with her left hand and spinning him back toward his bed, still holding him close.

As she collapsed on top of him, she giggled again as she reluctantly broke the kiss, and then breathed deeply before saying, "You see, sweet man, sometimes one can get away with quite a lot when 'technically' is good enough."

~F&tGM~

It was with a somewhat stiff neck that Fafhrd awoke on Krinch's floor. There was one small window up high on the wall in the gable that allowed him to see that it was getting close to sunset, so, after a good yawn and stretch, he said, "Krinch! Wake up, my friend. It's time for you to head to work."

"Uhn?" The cot creaked as the big man shifted on it. "Fafhrd, what in the Nine Hells are you doing here?"

Fafhrd yawned again, but this time for effect, and then said, "That was a great time today, my friend. But if you really want to fill in for me tonight at the Peg Leg, you need to get going."

Krinch sat up as he rubbed his eyes. "What do you mean, fill in for you? Oww!" He said as his head bumped a rafter during his own stretch.

"Hey, you won that toss fair and square, but if you don't want to do it, I'm going to head that way. Just don't come asking me for any free food or drinks tonight. Those, plus the chance to tussle and toss some drunks out, are usually better than the coins we get paid to actually be there to do it. Now, where's my other boot?"

Krinch appeared to be thinking at a snail's pace as he dressed before finally saying, "Fafhrd, you barbarian galoot, I won this so don't even think of cheating me out of my prize. Besides, if they have free food, too, that in itself may be worth it. I'm starving!"

"Well, if you insist. Just tell Mandi you're filling in for me, and make sure you collect your pay before you leave. That was great today, we'll have to do it again sometime." Fafhrd rose to leave, stooping slightly to avoid a head knock of his own. "See you around, Krinch, and have fun tonight."

"Thanks, Fafhrd, and you take care, too."

Fafhrd was stepping out the door as Krinch called after him, "Hey, Fafhrd, am I dreaming or did you need to borrow my big hammer for something?"

The barbarian turned back with a mystified look. "Wow! You must have had some strange dreams. Why in the world would I want to borrow that?"

~F&tGM~


	10. Preparations and Pursuits

Fafhrd was heading home when he decided to play a hunch and take a little detour.

Nestled against the south wall of the city lay the Southern Barracks, where the Overlord stationed approximately 1,000 troops that were used to guard the gates and upper walls and to provide patrols in certain, more affluent areas of the southern parts of the city.

Rumors swirled from time to time that the soldiers in the Southern Barracks were more troublesome than those in the North Barracks of the Citadel, but other, current rumors claimed that the troops had been paid on time recently and were well fed, so the probability of rebellion was low. Fafhrd figured if they could get the girl to the barracks, the soldiers would be able to deliver her to her father on the opposite side of town, thereby saving Mouser and him a lot of trouble.

Leaning against the side of a building across the street from the barracks, the tall northerner removed a boot and pretended to shake out a pebble before returning the boot to his foot. As he was doing this, he was observing the barracks and surrounding area as well as he could. What he saw convinced him that the area was being carefully watched.

While a lamplighter was in the process of doing his evening work on one of the few street lamps adjacent to the barracks, Fafhrd saw that several other people near the barracks looked rather out-of-place for it to be nightfall. He spotted at least four people who seemed to have no apparent business being on a street corner or in a doorway watching the main entrance and the Great Gate Road, which paralleled the south wall right in front of the barracks. Realizing that he would become yet another such out-of-place person if he lingered for more than a moment after returning his boot, he yawned and then moved on.

~F&tGM~

The man wasn't what Vondahghzio expected, but then again, wizards rarely were.

Whereas younger, less experienced mages often wore more ostentatious outfits to impress their clientele or frighten their enemies, more experienced wizards generally let their magic do their work for them.

Based on that, he hoped this one would fall into the latter camp.

The man wore a khaki-colored thigh length tunic with long, full sleeves over matching trousers. A black belt with two rows of small pouches on it cinched the tunic to give it a little fullness and his boots seemed to match the belt. The man was of medium height and build, and he had a short, jet-black beard with his hair swept back; the gray on his temples made him more distinguished as did his steel-blue eyes that were quite similar to Vondahghzio's own.

Finally, the rapier and dagger at his sides belied his profession.

However, when the assassin chief had explained his desires, the wizard had nodded.

"Do you have an item belonging to the person you seek?"

Vondahghzio produced a small pouch from which he drew the princess' small jeweled dirk. He had carefully removed the trace of his fallen companion's blood from it prior to placing it in the bag.

The wizard took the weapon in a white cloth that had appeared from his sleeve and looked it over carefully before saying, "Yes, this should do nicely."

The man named a rather exorbitant price to which Vondahghzio quickly agreed and paid without attempting to bargain. If this worked, the spell would be worth ten times the price. If it didn't, the assassin lord figured that he would have little trouble retrieving the payment from the wizard's body.

The wizard was, however, nothing if not confident. "Please, be seated here while I prepare. This will take some time, so I warn you that any attempt to interfere will ruin my work and your fee will be forfeit. My servant will bring you refreshments and attend to your needs to make you comfortable while you wait. I will be out to let you know when the spell is ready and to answer any final questions just before completing the last step."

With that, the man exited to begin his work.

~F&tGM~

The Gray Mouser gently slid the sleeping Princess' arm from around him and he rose to put on his shirt, boots, and weapons.

It had been a most enjoyable afternoon, but he was a little disappointed that the Princess' vaunted "technically" had been far tamer than she had led initially him to believe. That said, the Overlord still would no doubt spare no expense seeing him shipped off in one of the galleys, or worse, if he had even a hint of their activities during their time together.

Mouser smiled as he knew that not a single hint would ever come from him.

Wearing his usual gray trousers, he fitted Cat's Claw on his belt in the small of his back so it was hidden beneath his gray silk hooded tunic that he slid over his head. Scalpel was nestled in its gray mouseskin sheath, which Mouser strapped to his left side. He stepped into his supple, dark gray leather boots, and then positioned his small pouch in position on his belt. Inside, there were six round iron pellets and his sling positioned for immediate drawing from the top, below that were his flint and steel, some bandages, a coil of cord, and a small wallet containing the ingredients for the few spells he knew how to cast.

Feeling as if ready to go to war to deliver the princess if necessary, he looked at Altennia sleeping peacefully and wondered if, perhaps, there might even be a chance for them to be together someday. Realizing the unlikelihood of this ever happening, he decided on one other course of action.

~F&tGM~

The last remnants of daylight were rapidly disappearing and, as happened every night, darkness was beginning to settle like an unstoppable force over Lankhmar.

While danger was ever present in the so-called City of the Black Toga, with the coming of that darkness, it seemed to lurk ten-fold in the city's nooks, its crannies, and its darkened streets.

Fafhrd was well used to the danger and its multitudinous signs. Tonight, the signs weren't really there, but something felt wrong and it had felt that way since shortly after he'd left the South Barracks.

While he couldn't be sure, he'd seen at least two men who might have been following him as he made his way homeward. He'd seen each only once, and both had eventually turned to go their own way, but it still made him wonder if perhaps his own acting ability had failed him in this case and a set of keen eyes had also spotted him as being an out-of-place person outside the barracks.

Taking no chances, he took another detour and this time ducked into one of the less reputable establishments along Carter Street.

"No use crying over spilled ale," he grumbled below his breath as he bought a mug of the brew. Taking a sip, it was as bad as he remembered from his last visit quite some time ago. "I see you're still watering down your 'ale', Brono."

The barkeep gave him an evil sneer in repy, so Fafhrd shook his head in disgust and moved to the side behind a timber post where he could watch the door. He continued to sip the weak brew from time to time as he stood there, with each small taste bringing a new wince of disgust that anyone would deliberately ruin such a drink.

Some time later, a man with a hood entered the tavern. The dark-clad man looked around without seeming to spot anyone, so he soon sidled up to the bar and began talking to the bartender.

Brono the bartender nodded and raised up to get a better look around the establishment. Then he pointed in Fafhrd's general direction.

The barbarian cursed his luck. At nearly seven feet tall, he was a large man, and even standing behind a large timber post didn't provide enough cover. His pursuer immediately spotted him behind the column; when he did, the man picked up what appeared to be small reed on a string around his neck.

Though Fafhrd heard nothing, he saw the man blow what were apparently several notes into the little reed.

Knowing that didn't appear to be a good thing, Fafhrd slipped out the back door and ran into the Tenderloin District.

~F&tGM~

Just as the wizard had said, a thick ball of heavy black smoke appeared to be rolling along down the main street as little wispy tendrils seemed to branch out into each side street or alley it crossed. A long trail of the same smoke followed along behind it, giving it something of the appearance of a smoky snake.

Vondahghzio continued to follow the main mass of the magical smoke as it bumped along through street after street. More little wisps branched away as they continued along, yet the body of smoke grew no smaller as tiny, occasional flashes of what appeared to be distant lightning caused the smoke ball to look even more otherworldly than it already did.

Considering that it was most likely connected to another plane of existence, its unworldliness seemed quite appropriate to the assassin leader.

Vondahghzio had been following the smoke for over an hour when he saw it suddenly change. Its speed increased and the little flashes became more frequent and seemingly stronger. This, the assassin knew from his discussion with the wizard, was a sign of the nearing end game. The princess was close by.

He raised the small reed on the end of the chain around his neck and was about to blow it when the tiny insert in his own ear began to vibrate. From the frequency, he recognized the caller; from its intensity, Vondahghzio realized that the caller was close by, too. Therefore, he decided to continue following the rolling smoke for a bit while his men collected with the caller. He would be able to redirect them when the smoke trail located the princess.

Seeing the smoke ball picking up its pace and getting further ahead of him, Vondahgzhio speeded up to keep apace. Based on what the wizard had said, it shouldn't be long now.

~F&tGM~


	11. Where There's Smoke, There's Fight

Having lost his pursuers, Fafhrd reached the stairs and started his way up to the small apartment on the top floor. He was about to put his foot down on the sixth tread when he smelled a sulfur-like odor and felt the exposed skin on his hands and arms tingle with a feeling of almost unnatural burning. Glancing down, he was surprised to see a roiling, seething ball of black smoke that seemed to be rolling up and by him on the stairs. The hair on his arms and head stood on end from the shocks he was receiving; his arms were almost numb from the weird feeling.

The big man threw himself face first against the wall with his arms up, which allowed the blob to roll up past him. The snakelike tail whipped against him once, then twice, burning him yet again, before it moved on, making the turn to go up the next flight.

Fafhrd was about to chase after it when a voice from near the bottom of the stair called out, "Big man, if you value your life, you will let that go, walk down these stairs, and walk away."

Flexing his hands and stretching his fingers, he turned toward the voice and, in an attempt to buy time, asked, "What in the Nine Hells is that accursed thing? Is it a denizen of one or another of those infernal planes?"

The man standing opposite him was dressed in black like his pursuer in the tavern a bit earlier, but this man was larger and had eyes of steel that peered at him over the cloth that covered most of his face. "You know of such things, big man?" the man asked. "By what means?"

Fafhrd raised his right hand and gently stroked his short, reddish-yellow beard as he stared back at his questioner. "Of course," he replied. "When one is allied with Ningauble of the Seven Eyes, one quickly learns of the many planes and of creatures better left undisturbed. And," as his hand suddenly darted from his beard to the hilt of Graywand over his right shoulder, "how to deal with people who would use such beasts or make such threats."

The large sword slid free and was positioned in front of the barbarian in a flash, weaving small circles, even as the man raised the damnable reed to his lips and blew. Heartseeker in Fafhrd's left hand had barely cleared its sheath when four similarly clad dark figures came dashing up to join their comrade.

~F&tGM~

They were preparing to depart when Mouser got a whiff of a strange, sulfur-like smell.

"Princess, do you smell that?"

She tilted her head as she sniffed and then nodded. "Yes. Where's it—"

"Fire!" cried the Gray Mouser. "The smoke's coming under the door! We've got to get…out…of…"

Seeing the smoke coalesce into a big ball with almost continuously flashing lights inside it, Mouser trailed off his comment as he realized that was no fire and no ordinary smoke. In the blink of an eye, his sword and dagger were in hand and he was frantically slashing into the smoke as it tried to move toward the princess.

"Altennia, stay behind me," he ordered as he continued his slices, only to see both weapons swing through the smoke and back completely ineffectively. Small wisps trailed each weapon momentarily, but then rejoined the ball. One of the smoky tendrils seemed to drag across his hand, causing a jolting sensation similar to one he'd encountered earlier in the year, leading to a numb feeling as he backed away.

As Mouser moved around the apartment for the second time that day, doing everything possible to stay between the ball and the princess, he saw it leave a smoky, tail-like trail behind it that seemed to continue to grow as the main ball rolled forward. If it continued on like that, soon there would be nowhere else to retreat.

~F&tGM~

At the same time and about three floors below, Fafhrd was doing his best to retreat up the almost pitch black stairs slowly and in such a way as to allow only one of the assassins to engage him at a time and to prevent the others from getting around him and being able to go upstairs and corner the Mouser and the princess.

Suddenly he heard the head assassin say, "Switch!" at which time his foe dropped back and a fresh fighter took his place.

Fafhrd shook his head in disgust at the unfairness of it, though in reality he knew that assassins made it a practice to not fight fair. Then again, he thought as he slid Heartseeker back in its scabbard and he reached for the little throwing axe positioned behind his hip, neither did he.

~F&tGM~

Altennia was holding the little candlestub as high as she could to provide as much light as possible as Mouser continued to fan his blades through the flashing smoke. The wisps kept trailing out and then back in with each pass.

"Altennia, that platter! Give it to me!" cried the Mouser as another tendril shocked his left hand. He winced as he sheathed both weapons and then grabbed the platter as she held it out to him.

"Hurry, Mouser, do something!" she cried as she was forced back into the last free corner of the room.

Taking the platter with both hands, he swung it broadly through the smoke, temporarily disrupting the ball slightly only to see it reform a few seconds later. A second swing got a similar result as he continued to be forced to retreat. It was when his back hit the side table and he knocked it over that he got a last, desperate idea.

~F&tGM~

The assassin never saw it coming.

Using the tiny bit of light cast under a door at the third floor, Fafhrd had a clear enough view and quickly whipped the throwing ax off hand as he'd done many times before. The blade sliced into the assassin's skull, killing him instantly, allowing Fafhrd to step forward and grab him even as he was starting to collapse. The barbarian then pushed the dead man's body at the second man in line on the stair, entangling him, and allowing Fafhrd to retreat a bit, redraw his shortsword, and set up for his next opponent.

~F&tGM~

Waving the platter through the smoky mass seemed to slow it slightly, but the little flashes that looked like lightning were taking their toll on the Mouser. His hands were both numb from the shocks he experienced with each pass, and now, as he finally reached the big chest of drawers with the wash basin and pitcher on top, he realized that he and Altennia were trapped in the corner with no way out if this didn't work.

He waved the platter once more and cried out as the shocks became worse, stinging his arms all the way up to his elbows. Based on this, attempting to run through the smoke might prove fatal.

"Quick, get behind the bureau and push it out!" he exclaimed. "We'll use it like a battering ram and push it through the smoke to disrupt it enough for it to let us get through."

Altennia clawed at it but she had no luck with it. "Mouser! It's stuck! I can't get it to go," she cried. "I think it may be nailed to the wall!"

"Leave it to the landlord to keep us from stealing it," he complained.

Turning to help her as the smoke started to envelop his legs, he saw the basin which was half-filled with water and suddenly got a different idea. Taking a final chance as the jolts started to affect him through his clothing, he dumped the rest of the water from the pitcher into the basin.

"Get ready to run," he shouted just before he slung the water into the smoke.

~F&tGM~

On seeing one of his men killed and another entangled, he pushed Smats, the third man, around to engage the giant, and grabbed the second man's shoulder.

"Kevlas, take Yurki. The window. Go up, follow the smoke and get that princess. We'll take care of this one."

Vondahghzio removed the hood from his small lantern, bathing the landing in light while Kevlas drew a small grapnel and chord from the pouch on his back. Stepping to the open window at the landing, he whipped the grapnel around three times and then let it launch upward. When it landed, he gave it a tug and then was out the window climbing up with Yurki following behind him only seconds later.

Vondahghzio stepped up the stairs to assist Smats in killing the big man.

~F&tGM~


	12. At Close Quarters

Mouser hoped that the splash of water would disrupt the smoke at least enough for them to get through it to escape from the apartment, but the result wasn't what he expected.

Instead, the portion of the smoke where he'd flung the water suddenly took on a more solid appearance, with the little lightning-like flashes disappearing entirely from that area. However, almost immediately, the semi-solid appearance began to dissolve from both ends toward the middle of the changed section, so the Gray Mouser whipped out Scalpel and Cat's Claw and sliced through the part that was still somewhat dense. As he did, the rolling nature of the smoke ball and its tail became like a writhing snake in its death throes. The flashes of lightning ended, winking out quickly and almost in sequence from the center toward the ball and toward the tail. Within moments the smoke began to lose its shape and dissipate, leaving only the smell of acrid, burned sulfur.

~F&tGM~

Fafhrd's new opponent seemed to be as good as the last, and this time he had no surprise weapons. He was slowly backing up the stair when he heard a noise behind him and then footsteps running up the stair. A quick glance caught what had to be at least the second person climbing in the window on the landing above him. He had to let Mouser know.

~F&tGM~

Altennia hugged Mouser tight as the smoke was dissipating, but a moment later, they heard a loud roar, "Mouser!" from somewhere downstairs. She looked at him with fear in her eyes.

"Fafhrd. We have to go," he declared as he pulled her toward the little fireplace. Placing a chair against it, he used a handhold to pull himself up through the hole in the ceiling with the candle stub in his hand.

"What are you doing?" she asked with a puzzled look.

"It's our escape route," he replied with a grin. "You don't think we'd have a big ugly hole in the ceiling for no reason, do you?"

He was pulling her up when the door to the apartment slammed open and two black-clad figures entered. Helping her up, he pulled her along a board that ran over the ceiling joists. "Don't step off this. For anything. You might fall right through the lath boards and plaster."

She squealed slightly as she slipped partially off; Mouser's hand caught her and put her back on the narrow path as one of the figures entered the attic space a short distance behind them. Handing her the candle stub, he said, "Hold it high. Don't drop it, and please don't fall!"

~F&tGM~

Vondahghzio had been in many fights and seen many others, but he'd rarely seen opponents as skilled as this one. The big man was fast, accurate, and highly skilled as he showed a moment later when Smats sword shifted to the side and the blooded tip of a long blade suddenly appeared out his back. The big man kicked Smats toward him as he pulled the bloody sword out and then retreated upward to the next landing as the assassin lord made his way around his fallen comrade.

"Brother," he whispered as he passed by the dying man. "You will be avenged."

~F&tGM~

The second man entered behind the first and they soon spread out following their prey. Mouser moved forward and away from the walkway board, using his catlike grace to almost dance across the ceiling joists, in hopes of giving his opponents a false sense of security about their surroundings. Both men seemed to be circling him as much as the rafters overhead allowed, forcing Mouser to withdraw to keep both within his eyesight in the dimly lit space.

The men had obviously trained together for such an instance since they charged at the same time in a well-coordinated attack. Mouser backpedaled, joist to joist, before crossing swords with the one on his right as the left man darted forward trying to take him while he was engaged. Mouser had Cat's Claw ready for him, but the man never made it. About half way there, the plaster-covered ceiling lath board broke and the man's leg shot through the ceiling up to his upper thigh. His chest slammed against a ceiling joist with a loud "crack." The assembly seemed to grip his leg tightly as he moaned and he struggled to free himself.

"Kevlas, I'm trapped!" he called with difficulty.

The other man suddenly took a different stance, realizing the twin dangers of the ceiling and facing a skilled opponent one-on-one. He moved to the ceiling joists, matching Mouser's movements, as he advanced, saying, "Free yourself, brother. Join me as soon as you can if you can."

Swords rang as they came together repeatedly with Mouser continuing to retreat away from the trapped man, while Altennia moved ahead of him on the board with the candle stub held high.

"Kevlas, is it?" questioned the Mouser. "Who hired you to kidnap the princess?"

"You know nothing about it," Kevlas grunted as he took a thrust at the little man, who danced back a joist and then stepped forward again taking a swing of his own that Kevlas parried.

Mouser skipped back a joist again and was moving a foot backward when he suddenly yelped and brought his arms up as if to help catch his balance. Kevlas saw the opportunity and stabbed forward at him, but Mouser parried with Cat's Claw as he pirouetted to his right and then led with a thrust of his own.

Kevlas looked down in surprise at the rapier blade that had entered between his ribs and pierced his heart. He tried to look back up at his opponent but slumped forward as Mouser drew Scalpel from his body. The dead assassin fell on the ceiling joists and then moved no more.

Moving toward the trapped assassin, Mouser held his sword out in easy striking distance before saying, "Free yourself and go. Take this one with you, too. If you follow me, I won't be lenient again."

The pinned man nodded, so Mouser withdrew to a point where he was shielded from any throwing weapons and then turned toward the princess.

Mouser rushed Altennia along to a rear gable, where he reached in a corner and pulled out a rope. He looped it through an iron ring set in the jamb post at the side of a vent, which he kicked outward, before dropping the rope downward. Placing one foot in a loop tied in the rope, he said, "Princess, put your arms around my neck and hold on."

She did, giving him a little kiss on the forehead as she did, and then he placed one arm around her, holding her tight. With that, he stepped out and the two slid down toward the ground as the rope slid through the ring above. When they reached the ground, he tugged the rope again to pull it through the ring to make it at least a bit more difficult for the kidnappers to follow them.

~F&tGM~

Vondahghzio had played his sword against the big man's several times but he was now questioning whether he would be able to take the man quickly by himself. He had no doubt that he would overcome the giant in a prolonged battle, but there was no time for that here. With the Overlord's troops on the lookout for the princess, they could be here at any time to investigate the disturbance. In addition, he'd heard nothing from Kevlas and Yurki; they should have been back with the princess by now and been able to take the man from behind.

Knowing that he needed to do something quickly, he suddenly flexed his left arm and caught three thin daggers that were released into the palm of his hand. Before the giant could even know what had happened, he sent the three flying toward him.

F&tGM~

Fafhrd had seen that this man was the most skilled of all those he'd faced. He knew, too, that his opponent would be as tricky and ruthless as he had been forced to be earlier. Furthermore, he was starting to tire from the battles with the other swordsmen, so he continued his slow retreat.

He saw the hand flick before he knew what it was, but he knew it wouldn't be good so he dodged to the side as the knives flew at him. Heartseeker sent one flying while a second one missed and embedded in the wall beside him. The third grazed the outside of his upper shoulder, cutting a small gash and leaving a trail of blood down his arm before bouncing off the stair and into the darkness.

Parrying another thrust from the assassin's blade, Fafhrd followed with a flick of Graywand that sliced his opponent's black mask and, it seemed, his cheek.

With the mask falling partially open in the dim light, the man's hand reached up to hold the mask in place as he danced back several steps. Giving a slight nod and holding his sword up in front of his face, he turned the flat of his blade to Fafhrd for a second, before retreating a couple more steps downward to the landing and then fleeing down the stairs.

~F&tGM~

"What is this place?" asked Altennia a short time later.

"It's an old hideout I've used periodically over the years," replied the Mouser. "I still keep a small stash of things here for use in an emergency. Like tonight." He wondered if he'd ever be able to return to the apartment, though he hadn't been there long and had little in it that would be difficult to replace.

"Will we be safe here tonight?"

"Unless they have another of those magic spells up their sleeves, then yes."

"Good, because I don't think I could run another block," she said with a sigh. "Come, my Mouser. Let's lie down."

"Yeah, I could use some sleep, too," he said.

"Who said anything about sleep, my love. I do, Mouser, I love you. You've saved me and I desperately want you," she said as her dress fell to her feet.

"Uh, Altennia?" he almost squeaked. "What about that 'technically' thing we were discussing?"

The princess was looking down at her feet before looking up at him with a sheepish smile. "My sisters actually taught me a couple of other, more advanced tricks for emergencies, dearest Mouser, so technically, I really don't care," she said as she pushed him backward.

~F&tGM~


	13. To Never Forget

Mouser awoke to find that he was on the little mat alone and Altennia was already up and dressed.

"Good morning, Altennia."

"It is time for you to take me home," she said perfunctorily, seemingly being careful to avoid eye contact as she turned away from him. "And it is Princess Altennia, if you please."

He approached her and said, "Princess Altennia, last night was—"

"Last night was nothing," she whispered sharply as his arms slid around her. "You must never speak of it again."

"But why? It was…well, so special," he argued. "I would do anyth—"

She shook her head sharply, still facing away from him but leaning into him and gently putting her hands over his arms. "You gave me what I may never have again after I am bartered off by my father to some old man in some distant land, but that was all. Now, do as I said and never mention it again."

"Yes, Princess, but I will never forget you."

As she turned toward him, he could see tear tracks on her cheeks. She shook her head furiously at him, but she, too, knew in her heart that she would never forget him either.

~F&tGM~

It was late morning when they stepped out of the line to the Supplication Court in the public area of the Rainbow Palace and the princess made herself known to the sergeant of the guard on duty in the area. He immediately whisked them into the safety of the inner palace, but the Gray Mouser didn't feel so safe a moment later when he felt strong hands grasp him and a knife placed to his throat.

"No!" she shouted. "He rescued me and led the kidnappers on a merry chase all over Lankhmar. If you harm a single hair on that young man's head, I will have you flogged and sent to the grain galleys. Or worse."

"Yes, Princess!" the knife wielder replied, properly chastised as he put the knife away.

"What reward did my father offer for my safe return?" she demanded.

"None." The voice was strong and deep and the princess turned to see her father approaching. "And yet you are home, safe and sound, my daughter," he added with a devious smile.

"Thanks only to this young man, Father. He saved me many times as we were chased all over the city by a band of killers. Without him, I would be far from Lankhmar by now, or in the secret harem of one of your enemies. He deserves a great reward."

The Overlord glared at the girl for a moment, and then turned to the Mouser, who was still being held by the two large guards. "You, boy, have my Gratitude for what you have done for my daughter. See the Exchequer for your reward. Guards, escort him there now."

Two big men picked him up off the ground and carried him away, his feet inches above the floor. He threw a glance back toward the princess, who was busily staring down at her scuffed up princess shoes as she chewed on her lower lip.

~F&tGM~

The overgrown guards at least put him down reasonably gently when they arrived at the Exchequer's Office. The man on the other side of the iron bars looked through the little window at him carefully and then said, "Rescued the princess, did you? Hmm."

The man glanced down at a piece of paper in front of him and then back at a man who'd been in the reception room with the Overlord. That man nodded, and the exchequer clerk looked back at Mouser.

"Your ledger starts with a positive balance, from which we must deduct one pair of damaged shoes, one exquisite dress (the princess' personal favorite), one small jeweled dirk—"

"Wait!" cried Mouser. "That last one wasn't me."

The clerk glanced toward the other man who paused for a moment before nodding. The clerk dipped a quill into his inkpot and then drew a careful line through the dirk before continuing on to the last line.

"And finally, 642 man-days of time for payment of soldiers for searching for the princess when you didn't escort her directly to the palace after your purported rescue."

"That's not right!" growled the Mouser. "We'd have never made it to the palace with the assassins chasing us. And besides, you had to pay those guys even if they weren't doing their fruitless search for the princess."

"True, but it's on the ledger, none-the-less," said the man behind the clerk. "Leaving," said the man as he watched the clerk ciphering, "a net total of 38 gold coins and the Overlord's Gratitude to you."

The clerk slid the ledger under the bars and said, "Sign here."

Mouser signed an almost illegible expletive directed at the clerk and his supervisor and then reluctantly accepted the small pouch that was shoved under the bars. He started to turn but the clerk said, "One more thing." The man jotted something else in a different ledger and then pushed a small brown medallion over to the Gray Mouser.

Picking it up, he saw a likeness that might have been the Overlord some 20 years and 50 pounds ago on one side and strange words that he could not read on the back. He looked up questioningly.

"The Overlord's Gratitude appears worthless to the casual viewer, but it is of great value to its knowing possessor. However, it is to be used wisely since it can only be used once. It is not replaceable if lost or stolen, so guard it with your life. Or not. Good day."

A moment later, the Gray Mouser found himself out on the street outside the Rainbow Palace. He looked up and silently searched the visible windows for any sign of Altennia, but she was nowhere to be seen.

~F&tGM~

Mouser wandered the streets for a little while before finally deciding on a course of action. By the time he paid the rent and split the rest of the coins with Fafhrd for his assistance, there wouldn't be much left. However, he made up his mind and was soon out the city gate and on the Causey Road toward the Great Salt Marsh.

Finding Sheelba's wandering hut was as painstakingly frustrating as usual, and when he finally did, he could have sworn the hut was laughing at him. Sheelba, on the other hand, on hearing of the Mouser's brave deeds from spies in the city, offered as warm a welcome as the faceless one seemed possible of giving. Mouser was soon explaining his problem.

"Of course it can be done," said the wizard from the depths of its faceless black hood, "but the question is, do you really want to do it?"

"I know what you mean," Mouser replied. "It hurts, terribly, but it is the only thing I can do."

The hood bobbed slightly in acknowledgement, and the wizard said, "You will remain this evening as my guest. I will take very special care of it tonight," thinking, in that inexplicably strange way that only Sheelba could, to do even a bit more than what Mouser had requested. The being turned, holding a hand up in front of Mouser's face for a moment. There was a little flash of light that caused Mouser to wince slightly, and then Sheelba went through a door that the young man could have sworn had not been there only moments before.

~F&tGM~

The next morning, with Sheelba's good wishes not being quite good enough to overcome the three coins charged, the Mouser made his way back to the city from the edge of the marsh. There was a buzz of activity as he waited in line to enter the gate. When he finally reached the front of the line to pay his copper coin for entering, he asked, "What's going on that has everyone in a tizzy?"

"Haven't you heard? The Crown Prince of Sarheenmar has been here for over a year getting to know all the bigwigs while attempting to convince the Overlord to let him to marry the princess. Well, he finally struck it big! It's rumored that he personally rescued Princess Altennia yesterday from the kidnappers who had tried to kidnap her. The Overlord was so overjoyed that he finally agreed to the Prince's request for her hand. Ceremony is tomorrow. Now, move along, friend. Next!"

While he'd expected the young woman to be shipped off to be married soon, he hadn't expected his and Fafhrd's parts in the rescue to be covered up or the princess' suitor to willingly go along with the deception. A couple of stops later, he was gritting his teeth as he approached the Rainbow Palace. A guard frowned at his request, but directed him to the Supplication Court once again.

Well back in the line, he overheard several people speaking of the surprising death of Councilor Salmas, the shipping magnate, who had drowned in his bathtub early the previous morning. Salmas was known to be a major political opponent of Overlord Karstak; a couple of the more conspiracy minded even guessed that he had had something to do with Princess Altennia's attempted kidnapping and that the Sarheenmarian had personally pushed the Councilor's head under the water. The other members of the discussion group didn't think this was likely since the Councilor's death had been reported prior to Altennia's rescue.

Mouser had no more time to listen or to consider the situation when a young man followed by an armed guard approached him. "You had business rather than a request?"

Mouser nodded, wondering once again if he was doing the right thing. Ushered into the same side room as when he'd brought the princess home, he got frowns from a couple of people who'd been there then.

"Well? What is it?"

"A wedding present for the Princess Altennia on her upcoming 'happy nuptials'," he said, pulling a small box from the bag slung over his shoulder. It was wrapped in a shiny silk-like blue cloth with a white ribbon holding the cloth in place, terminating in a pretty bow. "That wrapping cost a pretty coin, so be sure it looks like that when you give it to her."

"Wait. There's no note on this. How will Princess Altennia know from whom it comes?"

"Don't worry. She'll figure it out," he replied before stalking out.

~F&tGM~

The next night, the Gray Mouser was quite depressed following news on the street about the big wedding at the Rainbow Palace that afternoon. Sarheenmarian Crown Prince Rodrack had been united in marriage with Princess Altennia and they would be leaving for his homeland aboard his royal fleet the next day after the wedding had been successfully consummated.

Mouser felt physically ill at that thought.

Fafhrd, taking another night off from work since he had coins in his pouch from the princess' rescue, decided that they needed to make a trip to the Silver Eel for Mouser to drink away his worries. The little thief was a rather unwilling participant, but he still had a few coins left, too, so he finally gave in, figuring to go along, get drunk, and put the silly girl and her evening's connubial activities completely out of his mind.

Thus, that evening Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser were sitting at a small table on tall stools sipping their drinks from oversized mugs. Mouser was cursing fate for ever leading him to meet Altennia, and cursing his own sense of fair play for going to the trouble to rescue her. Fafhrd was generally nodding in agreement as Mouser complained while enjoying his ale and the view of the very shapely backside of a young lady standing at the bar.

"It's just not fair, I tell you," ranted the Mouser. "I went to all that trouble—and you played a big part, too, of course—and they credit some idiot prince from that podunk city of Sar-HEEN-mar for rescuing her. Credit's due where credit's due, I say, and not to some heen-ish hick just because he might get to wear a crown some—"

"You!" came a sudden cry from just feet away.

Mouser glanced around and rolled his eyes. "Gods! Why me? Why tonight?"

Having seen Mouser and seeing Scalpel again hanging at Mouser's side, the dandy Corsber, who was out for a night on the town, stood looking at the thief accusingly. "You were the one who robbed me!"'

"No," replied a frustrated Mouser. "You robbed me. I came and got my sword back and burgled you."

"And you…you took the glass! You have to give it back!"

Fafhrd laughed, "As if that's going to happen," before taking another swig of his ale. As he did, he noticed Corsber's companions looking at each other questioningly. He swung his knees sideways to allow an easier cutoff of those two if they decided to interfere.

Mouser was only shaking his head at the dandy, but then said, "It was quite a fine hand glass before we broke it. Where'd you get it, anyway?"

Fafhrd's look turned a bit puzzled as he watched both of Corsber's friends now staring at the man rather than at Mouser. Both appeared to be listening closely to the quiet conversation playing out before them.

"That's none of your business, but it's mine. No one else's!" he hissed.

"What's it look like?" asked Corsber's friend on the left quietly, changing his view to Fafhrd.

Fafhrd gave a quick and equally quiet description as Corsber continued to rail at and threaten Mouser. The two companions looked at each other and one said, "Granddad Corsbal's missing glass?"

The other nodded and replied, "Cousin Corsber said he didn't know anything about it after Granddad died? You don't think..."

"Yeah, I'm starting to."

Corsber's hand was inching quite close to his sword's grip when Fafhrd spoke up, "Buddy, my friend asked you where you'd gotten your grandfather's fine hand glass. He's still waiting on an answer."

Corsber's eyes widened in fear as his view switched to Fafhrd. "It...it wasn't my granddad's! I won this one in a game a few years ago."

"So your grandfather's silver hand glass didn't have the gold crested waves that seemed to flow around it? And the five rubies at the bottom of the handle? Shaped like a flower?" asked Mouser.

The cousins were looking angrier by the second as it became clearer that the hand glasses were indeed one and the same. Corsber, however, stuttered his denial, but his slightly younger relatives suspected the truth.

"How'd you get it from Granddad?" demanded one.

Realizing that winning it wasn't a reasonable defense due to the similarity, Corsber was forced to change his tune. "The truth! Granddad gave it to me a while before he died! I didn't tell anyone when he died since he'd already given it to me and it wasn't anyone else's business."

The taller of the two cousins shook his head. "You're lying, Corsber. Granddad Corsbal showed me the glass the night before he died. I asked him a question about a girl and he let me see if it would tell me anything. He put it away after we were done!"

"And Dad always said he didn't think Granddad could have suffocated himself. Corsber, did you smother that dear old man?"

"Just to steal his hand glass," accused the other. "All because he'd promised it to the girls rather than the oldest boy?"

Corsber, now completely facing his cousins, suddenly shot his hand toward the hilt of his sword, but Fafhrd was quicker and had Heartseeker's point against his back before the dandy's sword could clear its sheath.

"I'd seriously consider dropping that if I were you," he said. "Unless, that is, you just want me to run you through." As he finished speaking, he saw Mouser smiling to Corsber's right, but it was Fafhrd's turn to smile when he saw that Scalpel was likewise drawn and pegged against Corsber's side.

The falling sword was the cousins' signal to grab Corsber's arms and tie his hands behind his back.

"Don't worry," said the first one to Mouser. "The family will take care of this one. The hand glass?"

"Long gone."

He nodded in regrettable understanding. "Figures. Most of us knew it wasn't magic, anyway. Gentlemen."

As the two young men pushed Corsber out in front of them, Mouser turned back to Fafhrd but as he did, he was surprised to see Ivrian standing by the bar looking right at him, admiring him like she once had. On catching his eye, she approached, smiling broadly, but the smile was not the same. Seeing her up close, he realized there were other subtle differences, too.

This was not his late love, but instead, was the same girl he'd seen a few weeks earlier there in that very bar.

"Would you like to buy me a drink?" she asked as she grinned coquettishly at him.

Mouser looked at her closely. She looked so much like Ivrian!

But she wasn't. As he told himself that, his thought switched to Princess Altennia. This young woman wasn't Altennia either, and as such, he surprised himself by looking her in the eyes and saying, "I'm sorry but I really don't think that would be a good idea for either one of us."

The girl nodded in acceptance and moved on to find someone else to buy her that drink.

Mouser, on the other hand, no longer had the desire to drink to forget, so he said goodnight to Fafhrd, and then stepped out to walk the streets of his city while remembering pleasant memories of lost loves.

~F&tGM~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue is still to come, but please let me know your thoughts on the story so far. Thanks!


	14. Epilogue: A Very Important Deal

The next day, The Wild Hogerness, the Sarheenmarian Crown Prince's personal frigate, was being escorted by two smaller corvettes from the Sarheenmarian navy as they finally headed home with the prince's quest successfully completed. All were under full sail as the galley slaves rested, awaiting but dreading their next turn at the oars.

The princess, now a married woman who had also successfully pulled off her ruse with little joy or enjoyment but with forced enthusiasm, was sitting on the forecastle deck with her two maids, watching the waves and the little fish that jumped from the water from time to time as if they were flying. Two guards served as her escort to keep the sailors from becoming too familiar with their possible future queen.

A shadow crossed the princess' view. She looked up to see a most handsome man with steely blue eyes standing by the rail near her, observing much like she herself was. When he turned, she saw that he had a cut stitched closed that was just starting to heal on his cheek.

"Princess, I am quite sorry to disturb you," said the man in perfect Lankmarese but with a strange accent when he caught her gaze. He bowed graciously, catching her hand and giving it a polite buss as he rose.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we've met," she said.

"Princess!" called Prince Rodrack with a worried look as he came up the inclined ladder to the forecastle. He positioned himself next to the princess, facing the man, and then said, "My wife, I would like to introduce you to...?"

"Vondar of Choloquio," said the man with another sweeping bow. "Very pleased to make your acquaintance, my princess."

"It is delightful to meet you, too, Vondar," replied the princess. "I'm sorry but I don't recognize the name of your city. Where is it located?"

"It is a country of the far east, my lady, a land of beauty and enchantment. And no offense taken. Few in the western world have heard of my land; far fewer still have visited."

"It does sound lovely. What do you do, Vondar of Choloquio?" she asked, sounding out the country's name carefully.

"I am a businessman, Princess, involved in very strategic and targeted acquisitions and disposals."

"Ah! That sounds mysterious!" laughed Altennia. "My father, though now Overlord of Lankhmar, was first and foremost a business person. Perhaps on a future visit to my former home you will have the opportunity to discuss such deals with him. What brought you such a great distance to our shores? A business arrangement of great complication that could only be solved by having you present?"

The Crown Prince turned to his young wife and said, "That was my doing. I hired, ah, Vondar, to assist me in, ah, completing a very important deal while in Lankhmar."

The princess tilted her head slightly with an inquisitive look, "Was your deal...successful?"

Rodrack patted his lady's hand. "It did not go as planned but it was ultimately successful enough that Vondar earned his fee and is now being speeded toward home by my ship. But enough of this talk of business! Vondar, you must excuse us so I may speak to my wife."

"Safe journey, Vondar of Choloquio. Until we meet again."

"And to you, Princess Altennia," replied the man. Nodding again to Rodrack, he tipped his hat and added, "Most pleasant to do business with you, Crown Prince Rodrack."

As Vondar went back down to the main deck, Altennia watched as he approached the rail and looked out across the water at one of the escorting corvettes. Strangely, he seemed to give a little salute to several men on the nearest ship looking across at him. They returned the salute which Altennia thought was most unusual.

While she watched, Rodrack was speaking to the guards. When he finished, both turned to block the ship's ladder, effectively cutting off visitors to the forecastle. Altennia noticed that both guards appeared to be watching Vondar somewhat nervously as he walked toward the rear of the ship.

"Ah, my wife, we will be to your new home, my homeland, in a few days," proclaimed Rodrack. "There will be a large banquet in your honor soon after our arrival."

"That will be lovely, my husband, I'm sure."

"Quite so! There, you will be installed in your position as my chief wife and head of my harem."

Altennia's face fell as he said this, but turned to horror as he continued, "I will, of course, need to dismiss my former chief wife. She has displeased me for quite some time and I wish to handle it myself. Otherwise, the duty would fall to you, as the new holder of the office. Ah, now please excuse me, I must speak with my captain."

Altennia was speechless and on the verge of tears as her new husband and psychological torturer turned away and went down the ladder. The guards closed up again to reblock the stair following his passing.

Altennia pushed by them, and down the ladder herself, fleeing to her cabin under the forecastle where she flung herself on her bed crying. Her maids came in to comfort her, but Lady Sherena shooed them away.

"Princess Altennia, I know this is a rough trip, dear, and your life will be new to you. Many things and many customs will be very different, but you must keep yourself happy and entertained no matter what, for your own sake as well as that of your new husband." Seeing no change in the princess' demeanor, she added, "Perhaps now would be a good time to unwrap some of your wedding gifts from the commoners. Maid, go! Bring some of the unopened gifts from the people for the princess. One never knows what laughs one might get by seeing what those people think is appropriate for royalty." Sherena laughed at the thought as the assigned maid ran to the hold.

Sometime later and with several already opened gifts of at least somewhat reasonable appropriateness surrounding the listless princess, she saw a nicely wrapped box hidden from view behind some of the others.

Before she could say anything, Sherena saw that same gift. Excitedly, she picked it up and then searched in vain for the name of the giver. Shaking her head, she held it out to the princess and said, "This one looks like it may have been mixed it with the others by mistake, though I'm quite surprised that the person or family who gave it didn't do a better job of securing their name to it to receive the proper credit. Perhaps this will be a nice gift compared to some of this other trash. Should I have those dumped over the side of the ship?"

"No, Sherena," replied the princess sadly. "The people who gave those gifts did so willingly and from their hearts; they are very important to them. We will honor their generous gifts and send our thanks when we reach our new home."

Sherena seemed taken aback at the thought, but nodded in acquiescence.

Untying the pretty white ribbon that bound it, Altennia removed the beautiful blue cloth from around the gift, pushing it to the side to see a small wooden box. Again, there was no name to be seen, so she carefully removed the lid. Her hand quivered and her heart suddenly raced as she saw an old, distressed-leather sheath inside it. She shook her head furiously as another tear slipped down her cheek.

Pressing the sides to open it, her beautiful but broken silvered hand glass slid out into her hand, its back to her view.

Her tears flowed as she grasped the formerly beautiful object to her breast, as she was cruelly reminded that she had lost not only her happiness but the Mouser and her beautiful hand glass, too.

She considered running to the deck and flinging it and perhaps even herself into the sea since she could not remove Mouser from her memory or her upcoming responsibilities from her tortured consciousness.

She hesitated a moment as these troubled thoughts tangled in her mind, reminding her of the thrashing smoke in that small apartment just a few nights before. As she did, a sense of determination slowly overcame her. Mouser and she had overcome that, she knew, and now she would have to overcome this trial alone.

Flipping the hand glass over to look at the tragically broken mirror, Altennia was shocked to see instead that the broken glass had, somehow, been repaired as good as new! Still, something was different.

She did it again, and then several more times to be sure, but every time was exactly the same, inspiring just a tiny touch of hope in her heart.

Each time when she first glanced at the silvered glass, for just a fraction of a moment, she could see Mouser's face smiling back at her rather than her own.

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed this story and ask that you please leave at least a brief note to let me know your thoughts about it. If you'd like to see the series continue, please let me know that, too. Thank you!
> 
> Altennia's initial depression over fruitlessly searching for a purpose, her wide mood swings, and her suicidal thought near the end may be indicative of something similar to what is now know as bipolar disorder. As presented, it may be somewhat over the top, so then again, it may just be the pressures of responsibility, the learned and now ingrained impatience of being a princess, and the realization of a horrible situation in an apparently loveless marriage.
> 
> Finally, it was noted at the beginning that this story was inspired by a challenge prompt, but that prompt wasn't revealed then to avoid a major spoiler. The prompt was "a broken object."
> 
> P.S. I think I have the italics issue figured out, so I'll be going back through making corrections on that sometime soon. Thanks for you patience.


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